Lasting Scars
by WraithTemplar
Summary: When the Galactic Rangers won the fight for Corethra V, Ratchet hadn't expected the victory to come at a cost. But he'll have to learn from his mistakes as an old enemy resurfaces...and as a new threat begins exacting his own version of justice. Rated for violence, death, and minor language. Reviews are appreciated. I own nothing except my OC's.
1. Chapter 1

_"What's going on up there?" the voice crackled through his communicator._  
 _  
_

 _Ratchet gazed through the scope of his combustor rifle, trying to make sense of the situation. DeMarco was currently fighting someone. The girl, unarmed as she was, seemed to be getting the upper hand._

 __

 _"Captain, there's something going down on that rooftop," The lombax replied, his voice wavering with fear and uncertainty._

 __

 _"You know we need DeMarco alive. Looks like we're going to have to do this the hard way. Take the shot. Arrest DeMarco."_

 __

 _Ratchet hesitated. The civilian was still engaged with the former ambassador. And from the looks of it, she didn't seem to want to stand down._

 __

 _"Ratchet, what are you waiting for?" Quark's voice was dropping with anxiety._

 __

 _"I can't. I might hit the girl." Ratchet shot back. Sweat was dropping down his fur. If he missed, then DeMarco would certainly know that the Rangers were onto him. But even worse, the girl could be killed. Was that a chance he was willing to take?_

 __

 _Drawing in a deep breath, the lombax raised the rifle, aiming his sights at the ambassador's shoulder._

 __

 _"Captain?" he asked, almost as if for permission._

 __

 _"Do it."_

 __

 _And so, praying that he wouldn't miss, Ratchet reluctantly squeezed the trigger._

* * *

Ratchet jolted awake, unable to endure the nightmare any longer. His body was soaked in sweat, and his lungs felt like they were on fire, causing him to hyperventilate.

Quietly, so as not to disturb Clank, the lombax tiptoed out of bed to the bathroom, leaning in front of the mirror. Stupid nightmares. Ratchet had been stuck with them for over a couple weeks now, ever since...

He couldn't even bear to think about it.

The battle on Corethra V had been a victory, as far as Ratchet remembered. Qwark had assigned him to extract a former Ranger ambassador, Franklin DeMarco.

Use force if necessary, they said. It's for his own good, they said. They said all of these things to poor Ratchet.

No one said anything about what to do when a civilian got in the way of the mission.

The girl had attacked Franklin, causing the lombax to hesitate with the shot. But when he finally pulled the trigger...

No matter how hard he tried, Ratchet couldn't get the image out of his head. The image of the girl who intervened. The image of that bullet missing its target. Worst of all, the image of the girl as she tumbled off the roof, clutching the wound in her  
abdomen.

Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Ratchet noticed how ghastly his face was, barely acknowledging the silent tears that leaked down his face.

He had failed. And that innocent girl had paid the price for it.

"What have I done?" Ratchet whispered to himself. He was thankful Clank wasn't awake to hear his words.

He was also thankful Clank didn't hear the lombax'ssobs echoing from the bathroom.

* * *

 **I'vehad this story ideain my head for a while now. I mainly wanted some practice at writing a realistic villain, and for some reason, I chose to have him in this universe. Please review and let me know if I need to improve on anything. There will be more chapters to this, so I'll update it whenever I feel like it.**  
 **  
**

 **Also, if you like this fanfic, there's always my first story, Changing Seasons, to look at. Reviews would be appreciated on that story as well.**

 ****

 **Thanks for the support, and I will see you guys later. :)**

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 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Ratchet and Clank series.**


	2. Chapter 2

Mornings were never really a problem for Ratchet.

It was almost routine by now. Wake up, take a shower, eat breakfast, work at the garage, take up various hero assignments if possible, repair Clank if he needed it. That kind of stuff.

So when the lombax got called into the briefing room at 8:30 in the morning, needless to say he was surprised.

The moment Ratchet stepped into the room, he could feel two sets of eyes on him. He was certain Clank could feel it too, even though the robot was snugly secured on Ratchet's back. Qwark was sitting in one of the side chairs, his face conveying excitement  
/when he saw his newest recruit. "Ah! Glad you could join us, Ratchet," he beamed.

Ratchet would've returned the friendly gesture, but he was more focused on the man sitting at the end of the table. The man was Markazian; Ratchet could tell that much from his slanted ears. The man's eyes showed a deep concern, his hands folded together  
/as he waited for Ratchet to sit down in a nearby chair.

"I take it this is the newest cadet you spoke of," the man observed, turning to Qwark.

"Yes, sir. That's him. I told you he's much cooler up close."

"Okay. Captain, you sound a little more excited than usual, so I just have to ask. What's going on here?"

"Ratchet, my name is Dimitri Carlisle. I'm head of Kerwan police intelligence, and the new ambassador to the Galactic Rangers." The man's voice held a smooth, crisp edge to it.

"I've heard about some of the cases you've solved, Dimitri," Ratchet replied, offering his hand. "It's really an honor."

"Please, Ratchet," he stated, shaking the lombax's hand loosely. "The real honor is mine. I've heard so much about you already, and I've only had the job for about a month."

"So what exactly did you call us here for?" Clank asked, turning to Qwark.

"Don't look at me!" The captain replied, dumbfounded. "This was Carlisle's idea."

"I'd consider it more of a _favor_ than an idea," Dimitri corrected, shooting a glance at Qwark. "But you're right. There is one thing I need."

He pulled up a hologram. The hologram contained a Blarg official, the baggy clothes he wore suggesting that he was the opposite of that villain Drek. Ratchet briefly wondered who he was before the ambassador began to speak again.

"This is Jacopo Drek. He's a small time arms dealer and a frequent partner with his late brother, Alonzo," Dimitri stated, answering Ratchet's question for him. "Rumor has it he's been hiding ever since Alonzo was reported killed. After narrowing down  
our search, one of my agents finally got a lead on a small arms trade at the fairgrounds on Veldin."

"And you think Drek might be making himself at home there." Clank concluded.

"Clever. I can see now why you're the brains of the duo," the detective complimented.

"Just point is in the right direction. We'll deal with it."

"There's something else I need help with as well." He pulled up another hologram, this one showing random points around the fairgrounds. "Jacopo has some weapon schematics hidden around the fairgrounds. I need you to retrieve those as well."

"Wow," Ratchet stammered. It sounded like a tough job. To be honest, he was worried he might mess it up again, just like...

No. He wasn't going to think in that direction. He made the mistake. Now he needed to learn from it.

"Overwhelming, isn't it?" Qwark added sheepishly. "We'll assign some more Rangers to assist you. I'm sure you'll be happy to hear from Cora again, anyways!"

"What about Brax?" Ratchet asked, concerned for the hulking powerhouse that he was happy to call a fellow Ranger.

"He's sitting this one out. Even heroes need breaks sometimes, son," Qwark replied.

After a few moments of deliberation, Ratchet finally stood up. His decision was made.

"Clank, tell Cora and the others to get their ships ready," Ratchet ordered. "We've got ourselves a Blarg to find."


	3. Chapter 3

The sound of stone scraping against metal caused the spy to stir.

As the Blarg slowly came to, he wondered how he had gotten in this mess. The last thing he remembered was striding towards his ship. His orders had been simple: follow Ratchet to Veldin. Nefarious needed info on Ratchet, and the spy was the best in his class for the job. He'd taken over fifty jobs without leaving a trace. No evidence, no witnesses, nothing. It left the spy questioning how and why he was chained to a steel pipe in the first place.

"Hello?" he called out. "Is anyone there?"

That was when he found the source of the scraping sound that had awoken him. It was the sound of a blade being sharpened. The spy, however, was more focused on the man performing the task. The man appeared human, his brown hair hanging over the eyes that were currently focused on the task at hand.

"Hey! Hey you!" the Blarg grunt shouted. "Get me out of here!"

The man turned, pausing in his work and placing the blade in a sheath on his back. The Blarg would've asked for help further, but he didn't. Because he knew now that the man wasn't here to help him. The man's blue eyes, shining with anger, proved that much. The spy had seen those eyes before, back when the man had asked him for help repairing his own ship. What had happened next had been a blur of confusion. "You!" the spy yelled. "You got me into this mess!"

"No…" the man replied, sadism clear in his voice. "You got yourself into this mess. I was just making it official." The mysterious man finally stepped forward, clutching a file in his hands. The spy recognized it instantly. It was the file on the lombax he was sent to intercept. The man skimmed through the file, flipping through its pages in a hurry, before slamming it down on the table next to him. "Where is he?" the man demanded.

The Blarg spy felt sweat drip down his scaly skin. The file didn't contain everything; the Boss had made sure of that. Nonetheless, he tried to keep his voice as normal as possible. "Who?" he lied.

The man gripped his hair impatiently, before finally turning to the Blarg, the file in one hand…and an exposed power cable in the other. "Don't you lie to me!" the human snapped. "You're after the lombax freak. I know that much." The man snapped a switch, and the power cable sputtered dangerously to life, electricity crackling from the exposed cord. The spy could feel the anger radiating off the man as he leaned in close. "His location. Give it to me."

The Blarg remained silent, gulping down air, too terrified to speak. That was his first mistake.

Without warning, the spy howled in pain as the cable came into contact with his skin. He remained that way for a few seconds before the man pulled the cable back. "I said give it to me!" the man growled ferociously.

"Say please," the spy spat, finally gaining enough guts to fight back, only to scream as the cable jabbed into him another time, longer than the first.

"Don't make this any more difficult than it needs to be, pal," the man deadpanned, shaking his head in disgust. But the spy had had enough of the human's horrid abuse.

"Go to hell, you monster!" the Blarg snarled. Though he later wished he hadn't. Without warning the man held the cable dangerously close to the spy's left eye. The spy's head spun as thoughts of how he would die raced through his brain.

So when the human cut the power to the cable, still holding it close to his captive's eye, the spy wondered if he should be relieved or terrified.

"Let's get one thing straight here," the man started, his voice dripping with hatred. "You and the rest of Nefarious' pawns deserve your place in hell just as much as the Rangers. So I'm not going to feel a damn thing from killing you right here, and right now. But I'm giving you a chance to make this easier on yourself. Tell me what I want to know, and I'll consider letting you live."

The spy couldn't take it any longer, though he desperately wished he could. "Veldin," he stuttered, pained tears sliding down his face. "Jacopo Drek. He went after Jacopo Drek, that's all I know. I swear that's all I know." The Blarg spy broke down, his voice breaking as he finished his confession.

"That's fine," the man expressed. "I believe you."

With that, he activated the power cable and unceremoniously let it drop to the floor, watching and chuckling as the spy cowered to avoid being electrocuted again.

"Wait!" the Blarg screamed, as the man strolled to a nearby sink. "You said you'd let me go."

"No. No, I said I'd _consider_ letting you go," the man corrected, turning on the water. "Thought about it. Didn't work out for me." With that, the man snatched the file and left, just as the sink started overflowing.

The spy screamed in horror, reaching out for help that he knew wouldn't come to him, as the water crept closer to the live cable…

* * *

The human had taken off in his ship long before the minion's screams had stopped, long before flashes of light had engulfed the deserted apartment. As the man set a course for Veldin, he could feel remorse clawing its way through him, but he pushed it aside just as quickly. He wasn't going to think like that. Not anymore.

He had what he needed. Tons of information on the Galactic Rangers, especially on their newest member, right at his fingertips. Soon, he'd meet this 'Jacopo Drek' guy and find the people responsible for what happened. Soon, he'd find out the identities of the people who took everything he loved away from him.

And if anyone got in the way of his revenge…he wouldn't allow them to walk away unscathed.

* * *

 **Bet you didn't see that coming, huh? ;)**

 **So, there you have it. My first villain. I'm not giving out the name just yet, though.**

 **Also, I'd like to apologize for any grammar mistakes in the first two chapters. I guess that's what I get for using my phone to write. *sigh***

 **Anyway, if you liked the story, please leave a comment, and stay tuned for more. I will see you guys later!**


	4. Chapter 4

"We're approaching Veldin now," Cora announced from the piloting seat.

"Finally," Ratchet breathed a sigh of relief. After being cooped up in a tightly crammed ship for almost an hour, the lombax's muscles were starting to grow stiff. "Any signs of Drek or the schematics?"

"My sensors indicate one life form in the fairgrounds currently. I can only assume that it is Jacopo," Clank replied.

"Well then, I guess this won't be so tough," Ratchet said, though his voice sounding a bit relieved was something he wished his fellow Rangers wouldn't notice. He wasn't sure if he could bear up to telling the crew what happened.

Unfortunately, however, that wasn't the case with Cora. "There's something else bothering you, isn't there?"

"Huh, What—no! No. I-I'm fine, really."

"Un-huh. Sure," Cora deadpanned, turning to face Ratchet. "C'mon, rookie. You've been fidgeting in your seat for the past hour, and it's not just because of the tight space. So cut the crap."

"Cora, I'm fine!" the lombax snapped.

The Markazian Ranger stood face to face with Ratchet, looking his directly in the eye. "No! You're not fine, and I can tell! Ratchet, you know I only want to help," she snapped back, a concerned look forming on her face. "Tell me what's wrong. That's an order."

Ratchet wanted to hide, to change the subject and continue with the mission like nothing happened. But then again, he knew better than to disobey a direct order. "Fine," he sighed in frustration. "This mission's a tough one. In a way, it reminds me of Corethra V."

"Oh, yeah," Cora beamed. "I kinda forgot you were involved in that."

"I…I guess I don't want to end up pulling the same stunt that got that one girl killed. I'm still stressed out about it, and everywhere I go, I hear people bringing it up. And I'm worried that, if it happens again, you guys won't forgive me for it. You'll leave, and…I can't bear the thought of being alone. Not after we've been through so much."

Cora and Clank sat there staring after Ratchet was finished with his confession. After a while, Cora broke the silence. "What happened on Corethra V wasn't your fault. Sure you messed up in finding DeMarco, but that girl was the one who got in the way. I know you're dealing with a lot of emotions here. You're scared, guilty, worried about what you could've done or what will happen next. And you're worried there won't be forgiveness."

"Wha—How?!" Ratchet asked, shocked. He hadn't expected Cora to just downright know what he was feeling.

"How is it that you know these things, Ms. Veralux?" Clank asked, finishing his best friend's question for him.

"I know because…I've dealt with all of those emotions before, back when my home was destroyed. And they only grew worse when I found out you took the blame for that mistake," she replied, the last part whispered as if it were some horrid secret.

Ratchet nodded his head, understanding where the Markazian was coming from. Back when Novalis was destroyed, Ratchet felt he had been at fault. He'd hidden himself back in his garage, and he'd been about to give up on his dreams of becoming a Ranger. In the end, however, it was his friends who convinced him to stay.

"Thanks, Cora," Ratchet replied.

"We probably do not want to get too close to the fairgrounds yet," Clank suggested, snapping Ratchet back to reality. "Any ideas on where to land?"

"Set the ship down near Grim's garage," Ratchet answered. "We should probably ask him what he knows about these schematics."

* * *

The sound of a ship landing interrupted Grimroth Razz from his task at hand. He'd been working to fix that faulty engine in the ship for two days now. Couldn't he just catch a break?

Letting out a heavy sigh, the mechanic slowly stood up, striding toward the garage door. Sunlight blinded his eyes as the door opened, forcing him to squint in order to see the ship that had landed. Probably just another customer, he mused. Great. Just when things couldn't get busy enough.

"Hello? Grim? You in there?" Grimroth recognized the voice almost instantly.

"Kid?" he called out.

"Hey, Grim. How you been?" Ratchet answered.

"Never mind me, kid. How's the whole 'hero' thing treating you?" Grim laughed, embracing his adopted son.

"Yeah, about that," Ratchet sheepishly replied. "Listen I need a favor. Have you been to the fairgrounds recently?"

Grim paused for a moment. Of course he'd been there. After all, once the Galactic Ranger tryouts were finished, the place was often times left abandoned until next year. It was the only place he could catch a breath from working all day. "Sure. What do you need?"

"We're trying to find some guy named Jacopo Drek. Have you seen him anywhere?"

"Never heard of him," Grim replied, scratching the back of his head.

"Oh," Ratchet replied, probably feeling discouraged. "Oh, well. Thanks anyways."

"Don't mention it. Just be on the lookout for anything suspicious, you know. Like those darn toads. Or maybe those blueprints I found right before you dropped in."

"Blueprints?" Ratchet inquired, his voice suddenly taking on a hint of curiosity.

"Yeah. I found some weapon sketches during my last time at the fairgrounds. Figured they belonged to someone, so I kept them in my office."

Grimroth somehow knew he'd struck a nerve. He could tell from the worried look on his son's face. "Grim, where do you keep those schematics? We need them."

"Like I said, in the office. I'll go get them for you." The mechanic waltzed over to the filing shelves in his office, only to find an empty space where he set the blueprints. The mechanic was confused. Hadn't he set them in the cabinet last night?

"Bah. Sorry Ratchet, I think I lost—" Grimroth let his voice fade upon staring at the situation in front of him. Ratchet's new robot friend was carrying the schematics in his arms. And the increasingly scared look on Ratchet's face only made the situation even more confusing.

"No need to apologize for stealing them, kid. I said you can have them. Hey, what's wrong?"

The lombax's reply was to slam the office door shut, locking it.

"Hey! Ratchet, what gives?" the humanoid yelled, tugging on the door, but to no avail. "Ratchet, open the door!"

"Nothing personal, pal," he stammered. "But this is serious business. I can't have Drek coming after you. I'm sorry."

Grimroth looked back at his adopted son. "I'm sorry, too."

Ratchet gave a half-hearted smile in reply, before turning and running off, his warbot friend close behind him. Grimroth admired the kid's determination. He'd do anything to keep his son safe, too. But that didn't mean that Ratchet had the right to keep him from doing his job as a father. The mechanic turned, forging through his cabinets, before he turned back to the door. A spare keycard in one hand. A heavy blaster in the other.

"You're gonna have to try harder than that to get rid of me, kid," he muttered, opening the door, and strolling toward his hoverbike.

Ratchet may not want his adopted father's help, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't need it.


	5. Chapter 5

Dust swept in through the abandoned fairgrounds. The once vibrant training grounds for the Galactic Rangers had long since been deserted, leaving an eerie emptiness and silence in its wake. Stadiums held a haunting atmosphere about them, the spaces emptied of contestants and the inactive training droids left unattended.

Silently, as if they were ghosts, the Rangers moved into the nearest arena, weapons ready in case Drek had decided to step out of the shadows. Ratchet moved off to the side, activating his communicator.

"Dimitri, come in," the lombax whispered, scanning the arena for any signs of the target.

"I'm here, Ratchet," the ambassador replied. "Did you retrieve the schematics?"

"We got them, all right. Cora's back at the ship. She's keeping them safe. We've just arrived at the fairgrounds."

"Any signs of Jacopo?"

"My scanners indicate Jacopo is hiding within the arena structure," Clank assured. "We are moving to intercept now."

"Copy that, my friend," Dimitri breathed. "Carlisle out."

Ratchet clicked off the communicator, turning to face his friend. "You ready?"

"I must admit, it has been a while since you've seemed this confident," Clank observed.

Ratchet rolled his eyes at his best friend. The warbot was always one for pointing out silly things. It took a while for Ratchet to get used to them, but he didn't mind.

"You know, you were only doing your job back there," Clank quietly stated, earning a low groan from the lombax. Ratchet really hated it. Every chance they got, his fellow Rangers would be on his back about what happened with that girl.

Still, he managed to contain his annoyance, replying bitterly, "I know. I just wish everyone would stop hounding me about it."

"Ratchet, listen to me," Clank ordered, causing Ratchet to turn his head. Placing his hand on the lombax's shoulder, he breathed a sigh of confusion before continuing. "If you keep holding on to this, it will only get worse. Please, consider forgiving yourself and letting go."

"I want to let go, but I…I just…can't," Ratchet forced out, suddenly feeling as if there was a lump in his throat. "I don't know why, but I just can't. I know you and the others are concerned, and you have a good reason to be. But, Clank…I…I guess I just wish that I could've done more." He turned to his robotic friend, a faint smile appearing on his face. "Thanks for the advice, Clank."

Suddenly Clank's sensors went off again. "What is it?" Ratchet asked.

"Well, it appears my sensors are picking up someone else in the vicinity," Clank answered, his voice sounding just as confused as Ratchet's.

"Any idea who it is?" Ratchet inquired.

"No," the warbot replied firmly. "Whoever this man is, he's hiding his own frequency from me."

Ratchet was confused. He never knew there was someone else working with Drek. But the Rangers had met with no opposition from Drek so far, so why would someone need to shield himself from Clank? And then it dawned on him.

The man wouldn't need to shield himself. That is, unless he knew the Rangers were here.

Ratchet's reaction was even quicker than his initial thought at the realization. "Rangers, fall back, now! Our position is compromised. I repeat, fall back—"

A rocket slamming into the wall next to the duo cut off the command.

"Ratchet!" the lombax was dimly aware of Clank shoving him from behind. The damaged portion of the doorway crumbled to the ground, blocking them in. Ratchet tried to get up, only to let out a grunt of pain. Looking back, he noticed his right leg buried under a twisted heap of debris. He was trapped.

"Well, now isn't this interesting?" a Blargian voice droned. Ratchet looked up to see a Blarg atop the balcony, a Warmonger in his hands.

"That's him," the squad leader droned. "All units, engage on my—"

The squad leader was suddenly cut off as a blaster bolt pierced his head. The Ranger crumpled forward, revealing the source of Clank's second signal, a hooded human. Ratchet could barely make out the blue eyes under the hood, but even from here, the lombax could tell those eyes were filled with sadism and hatred.

"Open fire," another Ranger yelled. Within seconds the courtyard was blazing with gunfire. The man easily avoided the bolts, pulling out a machete and driving into the gut of the nearest Ranger. He repeated this pattern quickly, slicing through Ratchet's allies as if they were made of paper. Jacopo was a different problem, tearing apart large groups of Rangers with the Warmonger, while the hooded man cut and stabbed his way through isolated soldiers.

Ratchet simply sat there and watched the chaos unfold, unable to free his leg from the rubble. His own combustor was nowhere to be found, probably having slipped through his hands.

The lombax was so absorbed in the chaos that he barely noticed Jacopo jump down into the arena. "I expected more of a fight from you Rangers. You think you can just waltz in here and have your way with my business?"

"Jacopo Drek, on behalf of every single Ranger you just slaughtered, I'm placing you and your partner under arrest," Ratchet seethed, his green eyes glaring daggers at Jacopo.

"Oh, you know who I am," Jacopo growled. "I'm touched." The Blarg moved to grab Ratchet, only to be stopped by the human.

"Oh, no you don't. He's mine." The man spat.

"Are you kidding me?" the Blarg roared, throwing the Warmonger down on the ground. "He ruined my business. Stole my schematics from me. Destroyed my new home, with my brother on it, I might add. He's my kill, bud."

Clank, seeing an opportunity, crept toward the Warmonger, but a blaster shot made him jump out of his metal.

"Don't even think about it, defect," the man warned, turning back towards Jacopo. "You Blarg freaks are all the same. Greedy. Selfish. Incompetent, lying animals! We had a deal here!"

"Our agreement is over, you foolish bastard!" Jacopo shot back, the force in his voice matching the man's ferocity. "Deal with it, or leave. I honestly don't care! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a call to make."

Ratchet, meanwhile, had been standing there, trying to make sense of the argument. "Sensitive, isn't he?" he observed.

The man finally lowered his hood, revealing a mess of dark brown hair. "I'll say." The man pointed his blaster at the lombax before speaking again. "I guess that just leaves you and me, monster."

Ratchet's eyes narrowed, the hero taken aback by the harsh statement. Sure Ratchet knew the man wasn't being friendly with him, but calling the lombax a monster was just a step too far.

"What do you want?" Ratchet demanded.

"Seriously? You don't know by now? The blaster pointed at your heart should've been a dead giveaway," the man replied.

Suddenly Ratchet heard a dull _thud_ from behind the man. Glancing over his shoulder, he found Jacopo Drek, lying unconscious in front of—

"Grim!"

Grimroth payed Ratchet no notice, keeping his gun aimed at the human. "Get the hell away from my son."

"You don't know who you're dealing with," the man barked, raising his blaster. "Or did you not notice the corpses littering the arena already?" The two stood off, each daring each other to make the first move.

"Maybe…but I'm not the one who's outgunned." As if on cue, the Star Jumper flew in to back Grimroth up.

"Assailant, drop the weapon and stand down, now!" Cora's voice ordered.

The man's response was swift. Snatching the Warmonger, he launched a volley of missiles at the ship, sparks and metal flying as they connected with their target.

"Grim, move!" Ratchet yelled, hoping to get his adopted father's attention.

The lombax's mentor heard his warning, ducking out of the way just as the ship crashed into the arena, sending dust flying into the air. Cora kicked the shattered windshield open, lobbing a fusion grenade at the man, only for him to catch it with surprising speed.

"I have no idea why you even bother!" the man growled, tossing the explosive back at the Markazian. She was barely able to fling herself out of the way as the explosion tore apart what was left of the cockpit.

"You had your chance, human," Cora spat, pulling out a combat knife.

The man pulled out his machete, flipping a switch on the side. The blade hummed to life as bands of energy wrapped around the edges of the metal. Rushing forward, the assassin barely gave Cora enough time to roll out of the way. The man attacked aggressively, his machete acting as if it was an extension of his arm. The man's skill with the weapon was such that Cora was having a hard time keeping up.

Grim, meanwhile, had used the diversion to sneak over to where Ratchet was trapped. "You really shouldn't have come here, Grim," the lombax snapped.

"You honestly think I was gonna leave you to that mongrel?" the mechanic deadpanned, struggling to lift the debris off Ratchet's leg. "Just cause you're a Galactic Ranger does _not_ mean that you don't need help from your old man. There's a repaired ship back in my garage. Take it and get out of here."

"No! I'm staying and helping you!" Ratchet protested, grabbing his wrench in an attempt to help Grimroth lift the scrap metal. "You can't defeat this guy on your own."

"You've already done so much, kid," Grimroth reassured, placing his hand on Ratchet's shoulder. "We'll deal with him. You need to get those schematics to Kerwan, and tell everyone what happened here. Go!"

A blaster shot smacked into the wall too close for comfort. The two turned to find the man, who was now multitasking between fighting Cora and trying to kill Ratchet. It looked like Cora wouldn't hold on much longer.

And then the lombax noticed the knife in the human's hands. Smacking Cora into one of the arena walls, he turned to face the trapped hero. "Let me show you what _real_ pain feels like!" the man roared.

The knife flew through the air in slow motion. In those few moments, Ratchet saw everything he'd done, good and bad, flash before his eyes: Working at the garage, competing in the Ranger tryouts. Meeting Clank. Becoming a Ranger, redeeming Qwark, stopping Drek and Nefarious…even the moment he took that girl's life.

Praying it would be over quickly, Ratchet squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the end.


	6. Chapter 6

For what seemed like forever, Ratchet kept his eyes tightly shut, waiting for the pain of the blade to hit him. But after a few seconds, the curious lombax found himself opening his eyes.

The human was gone. In his fuzzy vision, Ratchet had noticed the man scrambling for Grimroth's hoverbike. Jacopo was gone as well. And to top it all off, Ratchet's right leg was free from the rubble, and he found no evidence of a knife anywhere in his body. Maybe the man's aim was off.

"Clank? Cora? You guys all right?" he cried out, eyes frantically searching for his friends.

"We're fine," Cora shouted, holding her hand over her bruised side.

"Where's Grim?" Ratchet asked, hoping his mentor was all right. "Grim? Where are you?"

"Kid…" a voice whispered from over his shoulder.

Ratchet turned around, finally relieved that Grimroth was walking towards them.

"Grim! We did it. We drove them off!" the lombax celebrated.

The mechanic said nothing, simply hacking into his arm. When he lowered the limb, the lombax stared in curiosity at what appeared on the purple skin. It was definitely fluid, Ratchet knew that much. In fact, it almost looked like…

No.

No. It couldn't be.

His curiosity replaced with concern, Ratchet hustled over to Grimroth, just as the mechanic stumbled into his adopted son's arms. "No, no, no, Grim! Grim, what happened?" the lombax stammered, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight. His mentor's upper abdomen showed an ugly wound, and only now, Ratchet had noticed the small drops of crimson leading from the scrap pile.

And then there was the assailant's knife, stained with innocent blood.

"No!" Ratchet cried out, suddenly realizing what Grim's intentions had been. "No! Grim! Why would you do that?"

No wonder Ratchet hadn't been hit with that knife. Because someone else had taken the hit for him.

Desperately, he turned to Cora and Clank, who had been watching the scene, Cora with her hand over her mouth as she recoiled in horror. "Guys? Is there any nanotech? Cora?" the lombax stuttered, his voice and form both trembling with fear. "Someone help me! Please…"

They both simply stood there. The haunting silence was all Ratchet needed to confirm it. There was nothing either of them could do.

"Like I said," Grimroth whispered, forcing Ratchet's attention back to him. "You needed me."

"I still need you," the lombax replied, tears sliding down his face. He couldn't deal with this. The girl's death was heartbreaking enough for him. How would he be able to accept the death of someone he knew practically his entire life?

"Don't feel responsible for what wasn't your fault, Ratchet," the mechanic spoke, pausing to cough some more. "I'm still proud to call you a son, either way."

Ratchet noticed his mentor's eyes stray away. "No! Stay with me, Grim. Please!" he pleaded, knowing it would probably be to no avail. But that didn't stop the lombax from at least trying.

"You always did have that hidden joy in your eyes…"

The statement left his mouth as a ghostly whisper. His hand fell to the floor. His eyes closed.

He was gone.

No. No. This wasn't real. This was just a nightmare. Ratchet closed his eyes and counted to ten, praying that he would wake up in his bed, and that all of this would just be some horrible dream.

But all that he saw when he opened his eyes was the lifeless face of the person who raised him.

And he knew, without a doubt, that the image was all too real. Letting out a haunting scream, Ratchet collapsed beside his adopted father, tears flowing freely down his face.

As the lombax violently wept over his mentor's still form, barely noticing his friends coming to his side to comfort him, only one thought replayed in his brain, a thought that both enthralled and terrified Ratchet to his core.

That human was going to pay.

* * *

He stood atop one of the stone peaks overlooking the fairgrounds.

The human looked on with both pity and contempt. He could feel the remorse returning, but this time he didn't fight it. He knew how it would turn out.

He allowed himself one thought, one moment of regret, before he shoved the feelings out of his head. The human had allowed his emotions to interfere, when he had struck that Veldin native with the thrown knife. As a result, the Markazian Ranger had gotten the upper hand, forcing him to grab Jacopo and flee.

Now, though, as Jacopo continued rambling on about their victory, the human deeply wished he'd left the crook behind.

"…it would be extraordinary. Just imagine it," Jacopo babbled as he paced around the top of the peak. "We'd send a _glorious_ message with this attack, don't you think?"

That had finally snagged the assassin's attention. "We?" he repeated, finally turning to look the Blarg in the eye.

"Yeah, I'd imagine the Boss won't ignore me once he learns that I crippled the Galactic Rangers' newest punching bag!" Jacopo shouted with glee.

The man snapped. The Blarg had gone too far this time. The human had done most of the work, after all. He had ended up killing a civilian. He'd taken down the Rangers singlehandedly, while Jacopo had been unconscious, all because the Blarg was just too stubborn to watch his back.

"We are standing here because of _my_ accomplishment," the human growled, letting his disbelief and anger do the speaking for him. "The only reason we are still breathing is because of _my_ efforts! Not yours!" The human stomped over to the smug Blarg, his voice rising in intensity as he ranted. "I nearly got my ass handed to me by that Markazian girl! I ended up killing an innocent man! And just what the hell did you do!?" he roared, his voice suddenly feeling as if someone had poured lava down his throat.

Jacopo, shocked at the human's colorful choice of words, narrowed his eyes in anger. "You're one to talk! That warbot defect was tracking your signal. You would've been at their mercy if I hadn't showed up!"

"You know what?" the man snapped back. "My father was right. Maybe we do need people like the Rangers to keep order…I'm certain they'd be willing to help miserable idiots like you muster up some common sense every now and then!" Jacopo turned his back on the man, strolling towards the dead civilian's hoverbike. "Where do you think you're going?" the human demanded, placing his hands on his hips.

"Like I said, our deal is over," the Blarg snarled, hopping on the bike. "Disrespectful and ungrateful to the end. I don't have to put up with this nonsense! You can go to hell for all I care!" he shouted over his shoulder.

The human said nothing. If that Blargian scum wanted to leave, to just walk out on a one-sided deal, who would care? The assassin preferred working alone in the first place. He didn't _need_ help, and he certainly didn't _want_ help. Especially from Jacopo.

The man said nothing.

He felt nothing.

Nothing whatsoever.

But then…that Blarg just had to push his luck.

"Good luck defending that depressed witch you call family!" Jacopo taunted angrily, starting the hoverbike and beginning to drive off.

What?

What the hell did he just say!?

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Pulling out his blaster, the assassin aimed at the Blarg, flashes of blue light escaping the barrel as he squeezed the trigger.

The result was insanely satisfying.

The bolts hit the traitor, causing him to get his foot stuck in the pedal as he fell off. The hoverbike continued speeding forward, dragging a screaming Jacopo along with it, and the human was barely able to step off to the side as the vehicle plummeted over the canyon edge.

The human felt absolutely no remorse this time as he watched the hoverbike drag Jacopo Drek to a well-deserved death in the dark canyon, the Blarg's shrieks of bloody murder filling the man's ears.

And he deeply relished in the satisfaction of every single scream.

* * *

 **I know...I'm insane, right?**

 **Seriously, though, does anyone else think that Jacopo kinda deserved what he got?**

 **Anyways, I would like to say thanks to all the people who reviewed this fic. Your support really means a lot to me, and I greatly appreciate it. (That includes you, Night Rider 7. Thanks for the constructive criticism.)**

 **Stay tuned for more, and I will see you all later. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

Watching the traffic on Kerwan fly by always seemed a tad boring for Ratchet. Any other day, he would've rather played a game with Clank or repaired a ship.

Now, though, he needed something to take his mind off things. Now, he needed to forget. It was his fault. If only he hadn't been trapped, maybe Grimroth wouldn't have needed to come save him. Now, he was gone, and Ratchet felt that he was the one to blame.

"Ratchet." The lombax peered over his shoulder at his friend. Clank was standing in the doorway, a worried look on his face. "Mr. Carlisle is probably expecting a report from us. We should probably inform him of what happened."

Ratchet said nothing, continuing to stare at the traffic.

"Ratchet, please," the warbot insisted. "I know how you feel about Grimroth. But that is no reason for you to simply stand around here. He would not have wanted you to become all depressed like this." Clank hopped up onto the window sill, finally forcing Ratchet to look him in the eye. "He would have wanted you to keep fighting."

"I don't understand," the lombax whispered, tears sliding down his face. "I did everything I could to protect him. And does he understand? No! Instead he goes and gets himself killed."

"He died a hero, Ratchet," Clank replied. "And you know it. You would've done the same for me." Ratchet felt his heart skip a beat. He couldn't bear to lose anyone else. True, he would've saved Clank if the warbot were put in a similar situation. Ratchet sometimes had nightmares of losing Clank, long before the battle on Corethra V. Losing the people he cared about. That was Ratchet's greatest fear. And now, thanks to that human, and the lombax's own recklessness, that fear was slowly coming to life.

With that, the warbot leaped down, strolling towards the door. "Come on. We need to speak to Mr. Carlisle." Ratchet begrudgingly gave a defeated sigh, before turning and following his friend.

* * *

Ratchet had expected to find Dimitri upset. He'd expected Dimitri to be there to offer support or to help in some way. But the office was empty. Only a few scattered files and a recorder were the only evidence that Dimitri had been here.

"Ratchet, take a look at this," Clank suggested, picking up one of the files and handing it to the lombax. Ratchet flipped through the pages, hoping to find something on Dimitri's whereabouts. After a minute's worth of searching, he found something that peaked his interest.

The picture depicted a human girl. Black hair, grey eyes…it was hard to tell because the photo was in black and white. The caption "Westbrook-Possible Lead" was written in marker in the outline of the photo. "Who is she?" Ratchet wondered.

"The name does not sound familiar," Clank mused. "Perhaps Mr. Carlisle is working on one of his detective cases?"

"I wouldn't be so certain about that, Clank," the hero replied. But there was only one way to know for sure. Snatching the tape recorder, Ratchet pressed the 'play' button.

"This is Chief Detective Dimitri Carlisle," the ambassador's voice stated. "In case any of you Rangers were wondering, I'm not here at the moment."

"Yeah, no kidding," Ratchet deadpanned.

The tape continued. "This is the first time I've taken a case since my job as ambassador. I'm just trying to multitask a little bit. Westbrook. Apparently the family went missing sometime around the Corethra V incident. I've worked on this case for about a day or two now, and so far the picture's all I've got. This whole thing just seems like a waste of time; I assume it's just another way to remind me of the choices I've made. The mother and father were reportedly killed, the eldest son went missing. The daughter…I think I may have found her. They say that when one door closes, another opens. Maybe after all this time of running into closed doors, I might have opened one up with this daughter." Dimitri let out a sigh in the background before continuing. "If you're here looking for me, or any information on the Westbrook family, for that matter, I've managed to track down a possible source at a warehouse on the remote planet of Zanathir. If the Westbrook family is hiding, Zanathir would be the place to start looking for them. Good luck, you'll need it." With that, the tape ended, leaving the duo confused. The lombax pocketed the tape, turning toward the computer.

"What are you doing?" Clank inquired, hopping up on the desk to get a good glance at the computer.

"You'll see," Ratchet beamed. "Computer, set coordinates for Warehouse 9, Planet Zanathir," he ordered.

Moments later, the computer AI zoomed in on the warehouse. "Coordinates locked. You will probably end up dying there, but what the heck, you only live once," the computer's monotone voice deadpanned.

"That's a cheery thought," Ratchet sarcastically mumbled. "C'mon, Clank. Let's get going."

"Ratchet, I find this situation rather confusing," the warbot stated, trailing behind his friend. "What are you proposing?"

"If Dimitri is somehow tied in with this 'Westbrook' case, then he might have already left to investigate. We'll need to act fast."

"I see," Clank understood.

"We're going to Zanathir to rescue Dimitri." Clank heard the lombax's voice grow dark as he continued. "And then, I'm going to find Grim's murderer…and put an end to this nightmare."

Ratchet allowed his best friend to hitch a ride on his back, before racing to his ship. Zanathir. That place would hold answers. Ratchet was sure of it. If that human murderer wanted the Rangers to play by his rules, Ratchet thought, the man would have to learn to adapt. The rules have officially changed.

"Hang on, Dimitri," Ratchet whispered, determined not to fail the ambassador like he had with Grimroth. "We're coming for you."


	8. Chapter 8

Ratchet wasn't normally one for drawing comparisons. But given the cramped space of the ship on the way to Veldin, he was grateful that the trip to Zanathir had gone much smoother.

As the lombax searched for a place to land, he could clearly see why Zanathir was so remote. The planet was a living, breathing display of rough winds, lightning strikes, and the occasional tornado spotted in the distance. There weren't very many towns to be seen, and the few settlements the two friends did find held nothing more than a few tiny buildings.

Ratchet couldn't tolerate the provoking thought of someone even traveling here for a visit, let alone living here.

"Uh, Clank?" Ratchet asked, confusion and worry marking his features as he stared at the dreary landscape. "Are you sure you punched in the right coordinates?"

"I am certain this is the location," Clank replied with a hint of confidence. "Zanathir is so remote that I had trouble locating the planet to begin with. It appears to be almost at the edge of the Solana Galaxy. Have you tried contacting Mr. Carlisle?"

"His signal's coming from the warehouse," the lombax mused. "But that's all I can gather. Communications are down. Must have something to do with this weather."

Another lightning bolt landed to the right of the Star Jumper, and Ratchet let out a surprised yelp, steering the ship lower to avoid the strikes.

"I'm taking the direct approach this time," Ratchet hollered over the thunder. "The sooner we get inside that warehouse, the better!"

With that, the hero carefully landed the ship, and stepped out into the storm, Clank snugly strapped on his friend's back. "This storm could blow the ship away," Clank yelled, his tiny legs kicking in the wind. Ratchet was having his own problems, as his aviator cap kept threatening to fly off.

"We should head inside, quickly!" Ratchet suggested over the thunderstorm.

The two stumbled across the barren terrain as the cold air and rain bellowed in their faces. Slamming his hand over the door panel, Ratchet collapsed in a heap next to Clank as the door closed. It was much more silent inside the warehouse, the sounds of the raging storm now nothing more than the slight patter of rain on the roof.

"Ok," Ratchet panted, leaning over from exhaustion. "Let's not go back out there again."

"Agreed," the warbot nodded his head in affirmation.

"Dimitri, are you there?" Ratchet questioned, waiting for a response from the ambassador. But there was still only static. "Hello? Dimitri, can you hear me?"

The static filtered through, but the voice didn't belong to Dimitri. "I'm afraid the person you're trying to reach is unavailable." The voice was metallic, a little higher-pitched than normal.

"What do you want?" the lombax demanded, his eyes glowing with anger. "Where's my friend?"

"Wow. I'm surprised you've forgotten so easily, lombax," The newcomer's voice droned with demented laughter. "Seriously. I guess not even death can cause the Rangers to remember someone. That fool Qwark made sure of that!"

"Who are you?" Ratchet growled.

"Step into my haunted house of horrors and see for yourself. But you better hurry, or the lead exhibit might be found dead on display! Ha ha ha!"

"Screw you, scrapheap!" Ratchet barely recognized Dimitri's voice in the background. "Ratchet, get the hell out of here. Don't worry about me!"

The transmission was cut off suddenly, leaving the hero fearing the worst. He had to move, and fast.

"Dimitri?" Ratchet yelled, hoping for a response, but to no avail.

Plenty of questions filtered through Ratchet's brain, but only one persisted. Who was Dimitri's captor? And why did it feel as if Ratchet knew him from somewhere? The lombax pulled out a combustor and aimed it at the dead shadows, before creeping forward.

The warehouse was nothing more than a shell, the emptiness taunting the duo with each step. Even though Ratchet had soft feet, he could still hear the slight _thud_ of his boots as they hit the steel floor. It certainly sent chills down his spine, that's for sure.

"So, Clank, any idea why no one's home? Because I'm drawing a blank," the hero stammered, his hands shaking in fear.

"It is very strange," the warbot observed. "Perhaps the workers believed this place was haunted," he finished, his signature chuckle echoing in the dead silence of the building.

Ratchet couldn't help but chuckle a little, himself. The thought of a ghost running rampant through the warehouse sounded like a good story to laugh about. The lombax was about to say something sarcastic in reply when his communicator went off.

"Spoiler alert," the mechanical voice of Dimitri's captor droned. "I've taken the liberty of cleaning this place up for guests like you. Oh boys!" he called in a singsong voice. Ratchet would've questioned what the captor meant by 'cleaning this place up,' but he didn't need to.

A Zurkon warbot, leaping out of the shadows, provided the answer.

Ratchet aimed the combustor at the mechanical menace. He smirked. "Too easy," he muttered. But the grin was wiped from his face as another warbot showed itself. And then another. And another. The warbots looked more skeletal in appearance, and their glowing green eyes were the only thing that pierced the darkness.

Whoever this captor was, he certainly didn't like to mess around.

"Target acquired!" the Zurkon's android voice droned. "Exterminate! Exterminate—"

A blaster bolt from Ratchet's gun cut off the command. The remaining Zurkons stared at their fallen comrade in horror, before letting out a high pitched screech. The warbots snatched their blasters, and opened fire. Ratchet immediately leaped behind a crate, a combustor bolt narrowly missing his head. Peeking his firing arm out, he let a blaster bolt fly toward the nearest warbot, damaging it.

But it wouldn't go down.

"What is this thing made of?" Ratchet wondered as he avoided more fire from the upgraded Zurkons. No matter how many times he fired at the warbots, they seemed to take it as if it was nothing. Clank scanned the environment, searching for anything that could be of use to his comrade.

A pile of live fuel cells provided the answer.

"Ratchet, over there," Clank pointed out.

The lombax swiveled his head toward the source of potential salvation. Immediately he aimed his combustor at the fuel cells and squeezed the trigger. The explosion was nearly enough for the heat to sear Ratchet's face. But the pros outweighed the cons. The warbots were annihilated. The flames scorched the skeletal fragments of the Zurkons, and the green light in their eyes flickered.

"Well…that's that," Ratchet gasped, leaning on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"Are you kidding me!?" the captor's voice roared. "Those warbots were worth more than this entire warehouse! But that's fine. You like to play with fire, don't you, lombax? Have it your way!"

Ratchet readied his blaster, prepared for more Zurkons to jump out at him. But the only sight that greeted him was a bright glare coming from behind him. His eyes narrowed as he stared at what appeared to be sunlight. The lombax steadied himself for another battle with a Zurkon army. But that steadiness was shattered as he came to a realization.

There was no sunlight. There never had been since the duo had arrived on Zanathir.

And suddenly, Ratchet saw the bright light for what it truly was.

"Run…" Ratchet whispered loud enough for Clank to hear. "Run!"

The lombax sprinted away from the flamethrowers, vaguely recalling the last time he had run like this, back when he saved Qwark on the Deplanetizer. Thankfully, he never made the fatal mistake of looking back. Clank, however, was not blessed with such an opportunity to ignore the embers.

"Ratchet, hurry up! They are getting closer!" the defect warned, his metallic voice sporting a hint of fear. In his hazy vision, Ratchet could barely make out a small cubicle. It looked like some sort of office space. Placing his hope on that one small patch of space, Ratchet pushed his legs to their limit. His lungs gasped for air as he neared the office. For a second, Ratchet thought he might make it.

That is, until his face made close, painful contact with the floor.

The hero groaned as he rubbed his bruised head. The weight on his back had suddenly become lighter. Wait a minute! That meant…

Ratchet finally pivoted his head toward his best friend, sprawled out on the floor. The warbot was now defenseless against the flames as they raged closer.

"Clank!" Ratchet screamed, his hand outstretched.

He couldn't tell whether or not he felt Clank's hand grasp his own.

* * *

 **I know what you all are thinking: where have I been all my life?**

 **I guess I just got a short case of writer's block. Nothing a little bit of music couldn't cure though.**

 **Anyway, I promise I'll get the next chapter posted sooner. Maybe even two chapters, given that you guys have been waiting for who-knows-how-long.**

 **Thanks for your patience, and I will see you all later. :)**

 **And give yourself a pat on the back if you caught the Doctor Who reference with the Zurkons.**


	9. Chapter 9

Adrenaline pumped through Ratchet's veins as he reached for his friend. He was rewarded with the feeling of Clank's metal as he dragged him into the office, the fires roaring past the duo.

The fires burned beyond the thin office space Ratchet had ducked into. Panting and gasping for air, he was barely able to speak coherently. "I think we're clear, buddy," he sighed.

"The next time we end up running from flamethrowers, please try not to use me as a shield," Clank replied, his voice irritated, proof that he'd dealt with enough danger for one day. Looking over to where the warbot rested up against the wall, Ratchet winced at the sight of him. Clank's once shiny metal was now stained with a scorch mark from where the fires had come too close for comfort.

"Sorry, Clank," Ratchet apologized. "If it makes you feel better, let's just take a break after this."

Clank opened his mouth, hoping to say something in reply, but was interrupted when Ratchet's communicator went off.

"Ratchet here. Where are you, Dimitri?" the hero questioned.

The voice on the other end made his blood run cold. It didn't belong to Dimitri, or even his mysterious captor, for that matter. In fact, it didn't even belong to a man.

"You've made a big mistake to come here, lombax," the cunning female voice droned. The voice was definitely organic, unlike that of Dimitri's kidnapper.

"Who is this? How did you get my number?" Ratchet growled in frustration. He'd had enough mysterious callers for one day, thank you very much.

"My name's Clara. If you need help looking for someone, I think I saw a certain friend of yours in the loading bay." The voice, cunning as it was, still gave the lombax the impression that she was on their side.

"Thanks for the tip, whoever you are," Ratchet replied, confusion sliding off his voice.

"Just be careful. I'll provide you with some directions on how to get there, but the rest is up to you, lombax. I'll be in touch."

With that, the woman ended the call. "What was that about?" Ratchet wondered, scratching his head.

"Perhaps we should follow this person's advice. I scanned the area to find our mysterious host. The source of the signal indicates that he is in the loading bay."

Ratchet looked around the office, his wrench gripped tightly in his hand in case more warbots or traps jumped out at him. The warehouse was practically a maze. What he needed was a map. Wait! A map!

A light bulb went off in the lombax's brain. "Clank, I have an idea. Can you access any schematics of this place?" Ratchet asked.

"The warehouse computers are down, Ratchet," Clank sighed, slamming the lid shut on Ratchet's idea. "I am afraid there is no power to this entire building. It seems this warehouse has been abandoned for years."

Ratchet, however, refused to give up. He paced around the office. Wait a minute. The woman told Ratchet that Dimitri was in the loading bay. Maybe she could help give directions.

Ratchet pulled out his communicator and contacted the woman. A few moments later, her voice gleefully answered, "You rang?"

"Yeah, uh…this warehouse is a labyrinth. Any way you can pull up some schematics?" the hero confusedly asked.

"Way ahead of you," the voice replied. "The blueprints should be downloading into your pint-sized friend there. Happy hunting!" Once again, the mysterious caller hung up.

The lombax turned to his friend. "C'mon, Clank. We've got a friend to rescue."

* * *

Thanks to the woman's directions, the trip to the loading bay went rather smoothly, if the lack of traps was anything to go by. Ratchet slipped behind a crate, and took note of the situation up ahead. Dimitri was tied to a chair, and two Zurkon warbots stood on his right and left. But what truly caught Ratchet's attention was the figure in front of Dimitri.

The figure must have a good reason to hide itself. It work a cloak over its entire form. "This isn't how I hoped for this night to go," the metallic voice droned. Ratchet recognized the voice. It belonged to Dimitri's kidnapper.

"You're not the only one who had your plans interrupted, scrapheap," the ambassador heatedly shot back.

As the two continued their argument, Ratchet and Clank ducked behind the crate. "Who's the creep in the cloak?" Ratchet whispered.

"I am not sure," Clank answered quietly. "Is there any way we can avoid being detected?"

"I've got a trick or two up my sleeve," Ratchet replied, pulling out a grenade. Clank gasped. Ratchet peeked up, activated the grenade, and tossed it as far as he could in the mysterious figure's direction.

The reactions were instantaneous.

The grenade went off, sending sizzles of electricity through the area. The Zurkons panicked and tried to run, but both were fried instantly. Dimitri's reaction was the exact opposite, the ambassador laughing in triumph and glee. The figure rolled out the way in time, but not before his right leg went haywire from the electric current. It was then that Ratchet knew he was dealing with a cyborg of some sort.

Ratchet turned back to his friend, only now noticing the look of shock on the warbot's face. "Oh, c'mon, Clank. It's not like I was actually going to…you know," he sputtered in realization.

The duo left their hiding spot. Ratchet wasted no time in cutting the ropes that bound the detective to the chair. "Well done," Dimitri complimented, rubbing his wrists. "At least now I know that bastard was lying. He said you and the Rangers would simply forget I was here."

"Are you kidding?" Ratchet asked, shocked. "We couldn't just leave you here. I'm not losing anyone else."

"Anyone else?" Dimitri confusedly replied. "Wait a minute. What happened on—"

"Turn. The hell. Around." The cold, metallic voice sent shivers down the lombax's spine. Slowly, with his wrench in his hand, he turned to face his adversary.

"I'll only ask one more time," Ratchet warned, his voice hinted with anger. "Who are you?"

"You know who I am, lombax," the voice growled. "It's because of you that I know what pain feels like. But who am I kidding? The pain didn't make me what I am. You did." The figure paced around, a metallic clank sounding as his cyborg feet hit the floor. "You know _exactly_ who I am!"

"Your right," the hero shot back. "In fact, why don't you get rid of the dull cloak? You don't need it."

The captor shed the torn cloak.

"Oh, dear," Clank remarked.

The cyborg stopped in front of the group, his red eyes narrowing in anger. The gears behind the glass dome in his head whirred with fury. Ratchet recognized the robot. The voice always seemed familiar to the hero. He simply had trouble identifying it until now.

"You…" Ratchet whispered, shocked at the sight of his old enemy.

"Ta-da," Dr. Nefarious remarked, his red eyes piercing the lombax with their gaze.

"No," Ratchet stammered. "That's impossible. I saw it happen. I saw you die!"

"It just goes to show you, squishy," the mad doctor cackled gleefully. "There are some fates worse than death."

Nefarious began to pace around in front of the lombax. "How's life with those Rangers? Are you still their favorite punching bag, or have they found someone else to torture?"

"Go to hell," Ratchet growled, more out of disbelief than anything else. He'd smacked Nefarious with his wrench. Ratchet had watched as the former Ranger plummeted to certain death in the Deplanetizer's core. At least, that was what Ratchet kept telling himself. Grim was right all those years ago.

Ghosts really _do_ come back with a vengeance.

"Believe me, I've been there," Nefarious countered. "The devil kicked me out because I was bad influence."

The doctor—no, the monster—growled in frustration, but the growl was soon replaced with a chuckle. "Count yourself lucky, squishy. I've got places to go, and loose ends to tie up. After all, the temper was already getting explosive with your squishy ambassador friend."

"This isn't over, Nefarious!" Ratchet warned, but to no avail.

"Oh…so many fun buttons. What does this one do?" the taller robot mocked. He pressed a button on his remote, before slipping into the shadows with a sinister chuckle. Ratchet barely had time to yell, "Wait!" before the door slid shut. Nefarious was gone.

The ground shook suddenly, nearly causing the lombax to fall over. "What's happening?" he hollered.

A nearby explosion provided the answer. Ratchet barely had enough time to push Dimitri out of the way as a shard of shrapnel flew toward them. More explosions tore apart the loading bay. Ratchet understood now. That button Nefarious pushed was a detonator. Nefarious planned to destroy this entire warehouse.

"We need to get out of here now!" Dimitri yelled. Ratchet yelped as a piece of debris landed right next to him. He glanced around and noticed Clank scrambling away from the chaos.

Ratchet heard the explosion before he heard anything else.

"Clank!" Ratchet yelled, rushing to his friend's side. The hero could tell from here that Clank was in bad shape. A shard of shrapnel had pierced the warbot's side. Dirt and scorch marks littered the once-shiny metal. His left arm was barely hanging by a thread from his shoulder. And to top it all off, Clank was trapped underneath a sheet of scorched metal.

"Clank! C'mon, we need to move!" Ratchet shouted, struggling to lift the debris off of his friend.

"Ratchet!" Clank warned, pointing upward. The lombax looked upward to notice a giant chunk of the wall coming down on top of them.

Next thing he knew, the wall was blown apart.

As he finally freed the crippled warbot from the makeshift trap, Ratchet barely noticed the speeder coming to a halt beside them. The door slid open, and woman in the pilot's seat beckoned to them. Her grey eyes showed determination and concern.

Ratchet recognized the voice instantly. After all, if it wasn't for that voice, he wouldn't have found Dimitri.

"Get in," the woman commanded.

* * *

 **And...another chapter done. Why? It's simple really.**

 **Because I can.**

 **So...how about Dr. Nefarious? Any thoughts? Anything I can improve on with the character? (This is what I get for not watching the entire 2016 movie.)**

 **Anyways, thanks for the support, and have a happy belated Father's Day! :)**


	10. Chapter 10

The thought to question the woman's request never crossed Ratchet's mind. Quickly, he snatched Clank up in his arms and clambered into the speeder; Dimitri followed suit.

"Get us out of here!" Dimitri ordered. Even in the low light, Ratchet could tell the ambassador had a nasty scrape on the side of his head. How the lombax only just noticed that eluded him.

The woman slammed on the accelerator, and immediately, the speeder zoomed forward, away from the crumbling ruins of the warehouse. Within minutes, the burning building was completely out of sight.

Ratchet slowly turned to stare at the woman. "Where are you taking us?"

"Somewhere safe," was her reply.

Ratchet wanted to know more about why the woman had rescued them, but he knew that now wasn't the time. Clank was injured, and he badly needed repairs. For now, the lombax simply sat in the passenger's seat, cradling his best friend and trying to focus on where the woman was taking them.

* * *

The safe house was well established. It looked like the woman—Clara—had been living here for months; the place held nothing more than a simple living room, a kitchen, and a small garage. The garage was home to the woman's speeder, and a workbench stood to Ratchet's left. Ratchet gazed in worry at what the workbench contained.

Clank was laying on the bench, his flickering optics the only sign of life. Clara was busy working with a small array of tools. The damage to the warbot was extensive. A large gash showed in Clank's side, where oil leaked out from in between the broken scrap. His left arm was brutalized, having taken the worst of the damage.

Cautiously, Ratchet approached the woman. "Nice place you got here," the lombax remarked.

"Thanks. I know it's not much, but it's at least got a roof to keep the rain out," she quirked up, continuing to work on Clank's lifeless form.

"Uh, thanks, for earlier," Ratchet stammered.

"It's no problem," Clara replied without facing him. "My boss and I have shooed out more than a few crooks at that warehouse."

"You need any help?" he asked. "I've repaired Clank more times than I can count. We'd be done a lot quicker."

Clara snickered. "Clank? Seriously?"

Ratchet felt his face turn bright red at the remark. "Seriously."

"It's fine. My brother taught me how to fix the speeder when I was twelve. I'm sure I can handle this," Clara confidently answered.

"So what brings you out here, besides the wild goose chase?" she demanded, her voice taking on an intrusive attitude.

"We're looking for someone named 'Westbrook.'"

The woman let her hands fall to her sides unceremoniously. "You're in the right place…"

Ratchet suddenly realized how she looked eerily similar to the woman in the photo. "You're Westbrook?"

Clara's slight nod answered Ratchet's question.

"Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm Ratchet." The hero offered his hand to Clara. She accepted, a slight smile appearing on her lips.

Just then, Dimitri burst through the doors. If Dimitri's face didn't tell Ratchet that the ambassador was upset, the way he clutched the photo frame was a dead giveaway. "What the hell is this?" the Markazian demanded, slamming the frame down onto the workbench.

"Hey! You should know my dad crafted this workbench by hand! Not to mention that frame's worth at least a hundred bolts," she angrily snapped back, completely ignoring his question. Ratchet gazed at the photo within the frame. He instantly recognized the person, though he wished he hadn't. It was _him_. The murderer. The lombax didn't even bother trying to suppress the memories of Grim's death. He knew that if he did, he'd only go insane. Clara seemed to notice Ratchet's horrified face, if her solemn expression was anything to go by. "Oh. Did he hurt you badly, too?" she asked, her voice becoming softer.

Wait, what?

"You know who this guy is?" Ratchet inquired.

"I used to…" She trailed off at the statement, as if there was a memory she was trying to keep from surfacing. "He was an old friend of mine. But that was a long time ago."

Oh well. At least Ratchet knew he wasn't the only one hurt by Grim's murderer. Wait! How would Dimitri know about what happened to Grim?

"Wow. Thanks, Dimitri. It's nice to know I'm not the only one after Grim's killer," the lombax complimented.

Dimitri simply stared at him with a look of uncertainty. "Grim?"

"My mentor," Ratchet explained, understanding Dimitri's confusion. "I thought you knew."

"Oh. Kid, I'm sorry for your loss. Really, I am. But I wasn't talking about your mentor."

Ratchet felt his eyes bulge. "What?"

Dimitri responded by handing a picture to Ratchet. The picture showed Grim's hoverbike, totaled and lying at the bottom of the Kyzil Plateau. "Shortly after you left Veldin, I got an emergency call from some hiker who witnessed the crash. He said he found Jacopo Drek's body in the wreckage. He's dead, Ratchet."

Jacopo Drek died? Ratchet didn't even realize it.

"Oh my God," Clara whispered, clearly shaken by the photo. Ratchet stared at the wreckage depicted within, his face showing the same horrified expression.

Suddenly, a noise from the workbench caught Ratchet's attention. "Ratchet?" the metallic voice groaned.

"Clank!" the lombax cheered, relieved to see that his best friend was up and about. "You doing ok, buddy?"

"Yes, I think so," was the warbot's response. He turned to Clara. "Thank you."

"It's good to see you awake, Clank," Ratchet sighed in relief. "I wasn't sure if you'd make it."

"I have a loose joint here and there, but otherwise, I am all right. Thanks, Ratchet."

"Hey! That's what friends are for," Ratchet started, turning to Dimitri. "Dimitri...I know there's not much of a lead right now, but…" He couldn't bear to finish the statement.

"Of course I'll help you," the detective volunteered. "Jacopo and I had a history back before he got himself killed. If someone goes after one of _my_ targets, he better be sure he brought a good weapon." The ambassador showed determination in his voice, proof that he was willing to help Ratchet until the very end.

"Thanks. I mean that." Ratchet allowed himself one thought of sympathy, before he became focused again. "All right, then. Let's start hunting this son of a gun down." The lombax turned to leave, only for Clara to grab his arm.

"I hate to break it to you, but he's going to catch onto you pretty quickly. I mean, look at yourself!" she singled out.

Now that Clara mentioned it, she had a point. Ratchet's protosuit was practically trashed. Bits of metal clung onto his body, and small holes in the armor exposed his orange shirt. "Great," he groaned.

"Just wait there," the woman ordered, before running off. Moments later she returned with a small bundle in her hands. Ratchet peered down in curiosity at the red sweatshirt and blue jeans she had brought. "Take these," she said, handing the clothes to him. "They belonged to my brother, but I'm certain he won't mind."

"Wow. Thanks!" Ratchet responded, grateful for the gift. "So, what are you going to do?" All eyes in the room landed on the woman, eager for a reply.

"I guess I'll go back home," she responded with uncertainty. "I've got some old wounds that need healing."

"Thanks, Clara, for everything," Ratchet stated, marching in the direction of the speeder, with Clank and Dimitri following suit.

As they sped off in the direction of the Star Jumper, Ratchet let one thought flow through his brain.

 _You better watch your back, murderer,_ Ratchet thought, his face showing how determined he was to avenge his mentor. _I'm coming for you!_

* * *

The woman had just watched her visitors vanish from sight before she noticed the shadow. A familiar shadow, one she hadn't seen in years, standing outside her windowsill.

In a matter of seconds, the shadow was gone.

Clara curiously creeped toward the window. She hadn't expected anyone else to be sneaking around. Her eyes darted around, determined to find the source of the intrusion, before landing on a photo.

Picking up the photo, the young woman smiled joyfully. It was her and her brother, sitting on a park bench on Novalis. She remembered the time their family had gone on vacation on Novalis. Clara's boyfriend had just broken up with her then. She remembered her brother as he sat by her, and told some jokes to cheer her up. In the end, they had their mother, Amelia, take the wonderful photo.

That was at least a couple years ago. Her brother was still alive back then. But now…now she wasn't so sure. She'd heard about her parent's fate. That had been hard enough to handle. And then, to add insult to injury, her brother was suddenly nowhere to be found.

As she prepared to set the photo down on the table, Clara found herself curious at the ink that came off on her fingers. She turned the photo over, her eyes forming silent tears at what she found. In a matter of minutes, she had retrieved her backpack, determined to find the remote for her starship.

She had barely skimmed through the note, before she let it float to the floor:

 _Clara,_

 _You've been helping that lombax monster, haven't you? Stay out of my way. Our relationship is strained enough as it is…and I don't want you getting hurt because of me._

* * *

 **Hi! In case you guys are wondering, I got the outfit idea from a sweatshirt I have at home. I just thought it would look cool. Catch you later. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

Elaris' day was not going well.

The weapons specialist couldn't even begin to describe what she'd had to put up with. Qwark flew his jetpack throughout the lab; she had to put out the fire he caused. Her recent weapon designs failed miserably. One of the failed weapons exploded near her face; she was lucky she wasn't burned or hit by shrapnel. Cora and Brax were busy on other assignments, and Dimitri Carlisle was preoccupied with one of his detective cases, so she didn't have much support. Clank had gone with Ratchet to find Dimitri, so she couldn't hang out with the cute warbot. And to top it all off, she was getting her butt handed to her in _Overwatch_.

How many times did she have to get her point across? She was absolutely _not_ going to play as Mercy.

"Hey, Elaris!" a voice called out from behind her. The tactician jumped in her seat, turning to face Ratchet and Clank.

"Guys!" she joyfully cried. "Nice of you two to drop back in."

"Nice to see you as well, Elaris," Clank replied. "Dimitri told us to come find you. He said you have information."

"Oh, yeah!" she piped up, turning to her computer. Moments later, she pulled up all she had on Ratchet's latest case. "You guys said you were tracking down a killer?"

"I'd use the term 'killer' lightly," Ratchet sheepishly replied. "Did you have time to crack into this a bit?"

Elaris turned back to the screen, worried. Did she really want to show them what she found? "Okay, guys. I…I found a news report, but…" She paused, and took a moment to catch her breath. "It's disturbing." She pulled up the report.

Ratchet's jaw dropped at the image. The video showcased two people. One of them was certainly the assassin, Ratchet figured that much out from the knife he held. But what caught his eye even more was the victim of the killer's blade.

It was Franklin DeMarco. Here, in the video, lying dead in the Kerwan traffic, was the former ambassador partly responsible for Ratchet's mistake on Corethra V.

The lombax was certainly calling it at this point. The murderer was borderline insane.

"Elaris…" Ratchet stammered, unable to speak due to the sudden lump in his throat. "Please tell me this is just some sick slasher movie."

Elaris shook her head in reply. The news report was real. DeMarco was dead. Ratchet was unsure of whether to be relieved that his mistake on Corethra V was partially fixed, or horrified that Grim's murderer had one more kill under his belt. Even worse was the fact that the murder took place on Kerwan. The killer could be right under Ratchet's nose, for all he knew. "Is he still on Kerwan?" the lombax inquired hopefully.

"No," the tactician replied, hearing Ratchet breathe out a sigh of relief. "Authorities lost him several hours after the attack. I dug through the news report a little deeper than the press did. The news report was already edited, and I could barely hear from the corrupted data. The only buried treasure I managed to dig up was a first name…Marcus."

"Interesting. What else is there on the matter?" Clank asked.

"Well, in other news, I've been keeping tabs on those schematics you found on Veldin. I did some research, and it's unsettling, to say the least." She paused in contemplation before continuing. "Jacopo didn't steal those schematics."

"Hold on. What?" Ratchet responded, confused.

"They were given to him," Elaris continued. "By one of us."

Ratchet felt confused. Someone was allied with Drek, the lombax knew that much, but he couldn't understand who would do such a thing. He's been working with the Rangers for about a year now. They all had absolutely no reason to just hand over such critical information.

The hero ultimately decided the truth behind the schematics could wait. Right now, he needed to find this 'Marcus' guy, and take him down.

"Thanks for the help, Elaris," Ratchet complimented, patting her on the back. "Keep up the great work!"

Elaris inwardly celebrated. Ratchet and Clank were, by far, the only Rangers who actually appreciated her work. Her office was basically a cramped closet with her computer. Elaris even expressed doubts on continuing her career, mostly because the Galactic Rangers were too busy running headlong into battle to notice her. But Ratchet and Clank weren't ordinary Rangers, and she was grateful for that.

"You guys don't know how much that means to me," the Ranger replied with a smile. "Thank you."

"It is the least we can do, Elaris," Clank added in.

Ratchet rolled his eyes as he stared at the two. At this point, the lombax would've said something, but it seemed even more hilarious to simply stare at the lovebirds. It wasn't long before Clank seemed to notice Ratchet's snickering. "Ratchet, what are you laughing about?"

"Nothing, pal," Ratchet replied in between laughs. "I just never imagined you two…you know…"

Ratchet laughed even harder as Clank's green orbs metaphorically burst out of his head. The warbot finally understood what Ratchet was talking about. "Well, if that is what you think, then perhaps I should examine your possible feelings of affection for Ms. Westbrook," the warbot smugly shot back.

Ratchet's laughter died short, the lombax's face suddenly turning a bright red. "What? I'm not…I don't have _those_ feelings for her. Are you crazy?" the hero stuttered, trying to cover up his embarrassment.

Elaris simply sat there and watched at the two continued to argue, much to her own amusement. She was snapped back to reality by an incoming message on her computer. "Ratchet, you've got a caller." The tactician paused a moment and tried to check the callers I.D. But there was nothing to be found. "He's not identifying himself," she continued, prying Ratchet away from his argument.

"Put him through," the hero ordered. Moments later a hauntingly familiar face filled the computer screen.

"Helloooooo," a crazed cyborg voice droned. "Ratchet? You there?"

"Is that who I think it is?" Elaris questioned, her voice wavering with fear and uncertainty.

"It is," the lombax responded with dread.

"Nice to see you again, squishy," Nefarious mocked. "I was starting to worry that you've forgotten about me. Well I haven't forgotten about you. I've got a little something I want to show you." He sighed, a deep guttural breath escaping his prosthetic lips, before turning the camera toward the background.

The landscape might have once thrived, but now it looked decayed. Ratchet felt his breath hitch in his throat. It was the place where he relived his nightmares, the place he never wanted to set foot on again.

Corethra V. The birthplace of Ratchet's failure.

"How does it feel, lombax?" Nefarious continued. "How does it feel to know that you were the cause of all of this?" He shifted the camera back towards his face, and Ratchet could tell the mad doctor was grinning with sadism. It was the grin of a monster triumphant. "I'm telling you, Ratchet, it's a hell of a vacation spot here. Why don't you come on down and join me? But you better hurry, squishy," he threatened, brandishing a combustor. "It's a limited time offer!"

"You're going to regret this, monster," a newer voice chimed in the background.

"Ha ha! The big, bad, squishy lombax doesn't scare me!" Nefarious retorted.

"Oh, _Ratchet's_ not the one who's gonna make you regret it!" the other voice shot back. With that, the recording ended, showering Elaris' computer screen in pitch black as the video cut out. Wait! That other voice in the message. It sounded a lot like…

"Clara…" Ratchet whispered, leaping up and strolling toward the door.

"Ratchet, wait!" Elaris called out. "Wait! Think this through for a moment."

"There's nothing to think through," Ratchet replied, his mind already made up. "Clara's in danger, and I'm going to help her."

"Elaris has a point, Ratchet," Clank added in. "Dr. Nefarious' message was broadcasted all over our network."

"So?"

"So going after your new friend is just what Nefarious wants," Elaris shouted, blocking his path. "On top of that, Marcus now knows exactly where you're headed. They'll both kill you. It's a complete trap. You can't just barge in there."

"Clara helped us escape Zanathir, and she saved Clank's life," Ratchet justified. "I'm not going to repay her kindness by leaving her to die. I have to do the right thing here. It's…" Ratchet painfully paused before continuing. "It's what Grim would've wanted."

Elaris nodded her head in reply. "I understand. But…you know he's luring you back to him. Please, just…just be careful."

"Don't worry, Elaris," Ratchet reassured her. "I can handle myself. I've already kicked Nefarious' butt once. I'm certain I can do it again."

"I would be happy to assist you, Ratchet," Clank started, but the caring tone in his best friend's voice cut him off.

"Clank, I need you to stay here," Ratchet insisted. "I know it sounds stupid, but I can't…I don't want to lose you this time. Besides, this is something I need to do alone." Ratchet knew it needed to be done, to ensure the safety of his friend, but deep down, he wished someone could come with him. Once he reached Corethra V, there would be nothing and no one to help him. Nothing to keep his inner demons at bay. Nothing to do that would keep that dead girl's face from haunting him.

Ratchet slowly backed out of the doorway. "Goodbye," he whispered, leaving the lab, and his friends, behind.

The lombax slowly made his way toward his quarters. He opened the door, wasting no time in digging through his belongings before he found what he was looking for. It was a simple headset. The function was similar to that of a Ranger's helmet. Just one thought, and the desired weapon would appear in Ratchet's hand. Ratchet also kept a detachable armor vest in his protosuit, and without a second thought, he detached that as well, slipping it on over his orange shirt. He also grabbed ahold of his wrench. He'd need everything he could get his hands on for the coming battle.

As for the rest of his armor, however, all bets were off. The protosuit had suffered a great amount of damage back on Zanathir, so there was no way Ratchet was wearing that to Corethra V. But there were other alternatives that could offer some protection. Ratchet glanced at the pile of clothes Clara had given him earlier. Pulling on the red sweatshirt, Ratchet gazed at himself in the mirror, and smiled, slinging his wrench over his back.

As he sprinted toward his Star Jumper, Ratchet looked back on how much Clara had helped. She'd been there for him when he needed it most.

Now, it was his turn to do the same for her.

* * *

 **And to think I procrastinated for about a month on this. Sorry for the long wait, guys. I'll try my best to get the next update posted sooner.** **Is there anything I can improve upon? If there is, I'd certainly be willing to listen. Anyways, thanks for the support. Also, please let me know if the whole _Overwatch_ reference was too much. I've never played the game myself, so I don't know for sure.**

 **Thanks for your patience, and have a great day! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

_Ratchet kept his head hidden below the dying weeds._

 _The mischievous child held in giggle after giggle as he watched his adopted father search for him. Hiding in the mud deposits on Veldin was much more fun than having to scrub Grim's hoverbike, and it was_ definitely _more fun than having to go to bed early._

 _"Ratchet?" Grimroth called out. "Where are you, you little squirt?" The Fongoid trudged through the mud banks, a flashlight in his hand._

 _Ratchet had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing too loudly. He'd spent the past ten minutes hiding in the cold, waist-deep mud. He vaguely wondered whether or not Grim would simply give up. After all, his mentor could only look for him for so long before locking up the garage and leaving Ratchet out in the dark, all alone. It happened to the child before. Knowing his mentor, though, the lombax figured Grimroth would more than likely keep searching. One time, Grim had spent a good half hour looking for his pupil, until he finally found the boy at the fairgrounds, munching on popcorn like he didn't have a care in the world._

 _Ratchet instinctively huddled closer to the weeds, trying to hide his shivering. Truthfully, he hadn't expected the mud to be freezing cold. Already, he'd felt his legs grow numb as the cold muck sapped the heat from his body._

 _Uh oh. Speaking of the cold, Ratchet suddenly felt like he was going to…_

ACHOO!

 _Whoops! Too late._

" _Found you, kid," Grim shouted, reaching for the lombax and effortlessly pulling him out of the freezing muck. Ratchet whined in protest as he was hauled back to the edge of the mud bank. The seven-year-old instinctively reached for a glob of mud, and flung it right at his mentor's face._

 _The moment he saw Grimroth's mud-covered face, Ratchet couldn't help but stare and laugh until his sides hurt. That is, until Grim decided to get even._

 _Ratchet's laughter halted as some of the cold mud smacked the side of his face. "Hey!" the young lombax yelled. "No fair! I wasn't ready!" Grimroth simply stood there and cackled._

* * *

Ratchet couldn't help but smile as he recalled the memory. All hell had broken loose from that moment, but it worth it. He and Grimroth both had the time of their lives. By the end of the night…well, suffice to say that Ratchet and his adoptive father both had more than a filthy garage to clean up in the morning. It had taken Ratchet about ten minutes in the shower just to wash away the mire. To top it all off, Ratchet had ended up coming down with a fever two days later.

The hero abruptly shoved the memory out of his head, and tried to focus on his flying. He certainly hoped Clara would be all right. Ratchet had already suffered several failures in the past few days. He wasn't about to suffer through another one. _I'm going to find Clara, rescue her from Nefarious, and give that mad doctor the what for._ The lombax grimaced as his thoughts turned even darker. _And if this 'Marcus' shows up, I'll smash his sadistic face in._

As he searched around the war-torn landscape for a place to land, Ratchet couldn't help but shudder at what he was thinking. _To be a hero, you don't have to do big things; just the right ones._ Ratchet remembered Grim's advice like the back of his hand. It certainly got the lombax thinking. Should he do the right thing and forget about his mentor's murderer? Or should he pursue justice, and make Marcus feel exactly what the hero felt?

Was Ratchet slowly becoming like the killer?

He shook the horrific thought out of his brain. He could worry about his inner conflict later. Right now, the outer conflict came first. In the hazy distance, the lombax spotted one building that appeared more intact than the others. From the looks of it, the building was probably some sort of military outpost. The only signs of damage to the outpost were shattered windows, crumbling brick and mortar, and the dangerously unstable satellite dish that mounted the top of the building.

Ratchet didn't recall landing his ship. All he remembered was the distinct sound of rubble beneath his feet, as he took his first steps on the surface of the ruins. The outside world looked as if it had been bombed. Though the sun was shining, all the glow illuminated was the fog that was prevalent throughout the landscape.

The hero was just about to enter the building and investigate. The only obstacle was his communicator going off. "Clank? Is that you?"

"I take it you have arrived," Clank noticed. "How goes the search so far?"

"I'm outside an abandoned military base. Nefarious' signal is stronger in here than outside. This has gotta be where he's keeping Clara," Ratchet covertly replied.

There was a noticeable pause in background. "Ratchet, I…are you certain you want to take matters into your own hands this time?"

"I'm certain," Ratchet confirmed without hesitation. "That killer has to pay for what he did, for all those lives he took."

"Ratchet, I beg you, please actually consider your options," Clank pleaded. "You have not been yourself since that mission to Veldin. I only want to help you make the right decision. Is that not what Mr. Grimroth taught you?"

"Grim also taught me to never let anyone push me around. This 'Marcus' has been pushing me around for far too long. I'm done arguing, Clank! I have to do this!"

"I understand," the warbot sighed in defeat. "Ratchet, I implore you, keep a level head… or else you might lose it." With that, the communication ended.

The lombax sighed in annoyance. Why did Clank have to trap Ratchet in a box like that? Why did his best friend have to make Ratchet question what he thought—no, what he knew—to be right? He pondered for a moment. Was avenging Grim truly the same as dispensing justice for his death? Was going after Clara simply a means for Nefarious to get to the hero?

His answers lay beyond the rusted door in front of him.

Slowly and cautiously, Ratchet began his trek into the abandoned stronghold, his Buzz Blades equipped for good measure. The last thing he needed was to get jumped by a bunch of Zurkons. The room he was in must have been a barracks of some sort; the room was lined with at least five or six rows of bunk beds, with a shower stall off to the right. It was a good thing Ratchet didn't have allergies; the beds were covered with a few months' worth of dust bunnies. That didn't keep him from constantly having to rub his furry muzzle, however.

As Ratchet neared the end of the barracks, his long ears suddenly perked up in alert. What was that noise? It sounded like…well, the lombax wasn't sure what the noise sounded like. Loud crashes and the voices of several warbots slipped into Ratchet's ears from the hallway adjacent the shower stall. The door was locked, effectively muffling the sounds beyond it, but Ratchet simply smirked. Nothing the Trespasser couldn't handle.

A little fidget here, a picked lock there, and…

Oh, no.

Oh, God, no.

Ratchet had finally found the source of the noise. It was the sound of Zurkon warbots being torn apart.

Separated from Ratchet by a reinforced glass window, was the murderer. Ratchet could only stare in horror as the killer expertly glided his machete through warbot after warbot. Marcus' face conveyed pure rage which he channeled into each strike, letting out shouts of terrifying anger with every Zurkon the killer struck down. The cargo bay was littered with the remains of less fortunate warbots, a sign that the skirmish had been going on for some time. Try as he might, Ratchet was unable to tear his gaze from the horrid sight.

That is, until a Zurkon leaped onto the window. Leaping back in surprise, Ratchet wondered how this unfortunate warbot could even function at all, its mangled legs and missing right arm proof that the battle had cost the machine greatly. Having witnessed Marcus' brutality back on Veldin, the lombax considered the Zurkon's survival a curse more than a blessing.

"Run!" the warbot stuttered out in warning, as its battered chassis finally gave up the fight to continue functioning. The machine clattered to the floor, lifeless.

Up until this moment, the lombax's fight-or-flight instinct hadn't kicked in. Now, though, if he wanted to live long enough to find Clara, Ratchet knew which option he was choosing. He wasted no time in sprinting down the corridor, finally ducking into the next room. Leaning over from exhaustion, Ratchet considered it a miracle that Marcus hadn't noticed him throughout the brutal ordeal.

As he paused to catch his breath, Ratchet almost failed to notice the bright light to his left. He carefully stepped through the doorway, gaping in awe at the clearing he was now in. It looked like an observation deck of some sort. The huge, cracked glass windows extended showed a magnificent view of the landscape below. A set of glass doors in the middle offered an exit to the upper half of the deck outside. What caught his eye most, however, was the figure standing at the end of the deck. Next to him, chained to one of the guard railings, was Clara.

"Ratchet?" Clara whispered, shocked. Nefarious, having taken notice, turned to face his nemesis.

"So, you made it?" the mad scientist mocked. "Not bad, for a squishy. Personally, I was hoping that maniac in the hangar would notice you and chop you up like shredded cheese, but even I don't get what I want."

"Let Clara go, Nefarious," Ratchet ordered, equipping his Warmonger and aiming it at the mad doctor. "You place one finger on her, and I'll make you look even uglier than you are now."

"Hmm, no. I don't think I will. This little pest here is insurance in case that squishy nuisance in the hangar tries to slice through my skull…or what's left of it!"

"Why don't you stand up and fight?" the lombax threatened.

"I simply don't see the point, squishy," Nefarious replied, boredom evident in his mechanical tone. "There wouldn't be any challenge in fighting a fallen hero. I'm starting to wonder if I should even call you a hero after what you did to this place. The natives of this graveyard certainly wouldn't!"

"Stop…" Ratchet growled, trying to force the memories back into his head where they belonged.

"I'd not only get my revenge for what you did to me, but I'd be doing these people a favor. They would just _die_ to have a shot at the Galactic Rangers who left them orphaned, homeless, and broken beyond repair." The machine let out a mocking gasp of horror. "And what about that poor little girl you shot down, squishy? Oh, she'd sleep soundly in her grave knowing her _murderer_ was put down like the dog he is!"

"Stop it!" Clara shouted, noticing Ratchet's discomfort. "You sick maniacal freak, he's had enough! Stop it!"

The lombax could hold back the painful memories no longer as a silent tear trickled down his cheek. "You're right," he whispered. Slowly, he raised his head to look the enemy in the eye. "I'm no hero for what I did. I'd hoped that after some time, I could simply forgive myself and move on from all of this. But who am I kidding? I haven't moved on at all!" He imagined her now. The woman who's life he had so foolishly cut short. He could imagine her long, red hair, her determined hazel eyes as she fought DeMarco on that rooftop. The shock written all over her features as she literally fell from grace.

"So what are you saying? Are you saying I was right?" Nefarious voiced, his smirk showing triumph.

"No," Ratchet replied, the sorrow in his eyes replaced by anger. The lombax inwardly smirked at the mad doctor's dropped jaw. "I'm saying that it's time for me to make things right," he growled, brandishing his wrench. "And I think I'll start by kicking your ass!" He ran forward, hoping to bash Nefarious with all his might…

…only to be thrown back with a powerful blast to the chest. The lombax rolled painfully across the floor before landing on his stomach. _How did he—what the heck?"_ Ratchet thought. His eyes lit up as he observed the doctor.

Apparently, Nefarious had received an upgrade. His hands opened up to reveal a hole in each palm, which Ratchet guessed fired beams of plasma. Nefarious' metallic digits elongated into dense, sharp claws that would make Marcus' machete look like a crude butter knife. The cyborg's entire form floated off the ground, aided by the rocket boots that were now his feet. It was official. Dr. Nefarious had turned himself into a literal killing machine.

"What's the matter, squishy?" Nefarious mocked, noticing Ratchet's surprise. "You didn't think it would be easy, did you?"

The mad doctor flew toward Ratchet in one overwhelming rush.

* * *

 **Aww, no action. Oh, well. You'll definitely see some in the next chapter. (insert evil laugh here)**

 **Anyway, reviews, as always, would be appreciated. Thanks for the awesome amount of support, and have a great day! :)**


	13. Chapter 13

Ratchet barely had any time to react as Nefarious leapt forward, his talons ready to dice the lombax into pieces. The lombax rolled forward, avoiding the attack, before swinging his wrench toward his enemy's face. Most people smacked in the head with a heavy object would crumple over, unconscious.

Ratchet realized too late that that wasn't the case with Dr. Nefarious.

The mad scientist effortlessly shook off the blow, swiping at Ratchet's face with his talons. The hero ducked, but not before the sharp claws grazed his left ear. Gasping in pain and surprise, Ratchet was unable to react as Nefarious lashed out with another energy blast, sending the lombax tumbling painfully across the marble floor.

"Oh, sorry," the cyborg mocked. "Did I hurt you?"

Ratchet snapped, equipping his Disruptor and letting off a volley of laser blasts. But Nefarious was too quick, his reflexes helping him avoid the blasts with ease. He retaliated by flying above Ratchet, attempting to crush the lombax beneath his feet. Ratchet rolled out of the way just in time, taking the opportunity to shoot the mad doctor once more, cracking the glass dome around his cyborg head.

At this point, the mere annoyance Nefarious felt turned into absolute rage. He let loose on his hand cannons, unleashing blast after blast in a futile attempt to pummel the hero. Ratchet leapt from side to side, his acrobatics helping him immensely, but he could only dodge for so long before a stray blast smacked into his leg. The hero crumpled to the floor, his wrench sliding out of reach.

As Ratchet struggled to stand, he barely noticed Nefarious pounce toward him, the cyborg's claws extended. Refusing to give up, the lombax launched one more blast from the Disruptor, sending Nefarious into a wall panel. Sparks flew from the broken machinery as the mad doctor recoiled in pain, defeated. For a moment, Ratchet smirked at his small victory.

That is, until he noticed the explosive lobbed in his direction. Realization dawned on the lombax, and he found himself rushing toward his wrench. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Ratchet retrieved his wrench, lunging to free Clara.

 _B-Bump!_

Ratchet rushed to Clara's side.

 _B-Bump!_

He pulled on the chains with all his might. They wouldn't budge.

 _B-Bump!_

The timer on the explosive was ticking.

 _B-Bump!_

Finally, with one final tug, the chains broke. Without hesitation, Ratchet shattered the window, throwing Clara to safety first, before Ratchet leaped out through the window.

 _BOOM!_

The force of the explosion tore apart the deck, picking up Ratchet and throwing him a considerable distance from the wreckage.

Groaning more out of annoyance than injury, Ratchet painfully picked himself up. The lombax pulled out his wrench, ready to put an end to Nefarious' traps.

"Explosives, too!? One thing at a time, Nefarious!" Ratchet yelled in annoyance.

"What?" the cyborg stuttered, struggling to stand properly. "Those weren't mine, you ignorant buffoon!"

"Then who—"

"Well…I take it you got my friend request!" a newer, more organic voice sarcastically announced. Ratchet glanced upward. There, standing on top of the burning ruins, was the man responsible for all of the pain—no, the _torture_ that the lombax had endured.

Marcus.

"Catch me if you can, lombax!" the human dared, taking off into a sprint. Ratchet pulled out his Buzz Blades, and let several shots fly. They all missed. The killer was simply too fast.

"Get off of me!"

Ratchet turned to find Clara, struggling with the now-recovered Nefarious. "Clara! Hang on!" Nefarious noticed his arch-enemy and fired another beam of energy, which Ratchet easily avoided. He pulled out his wrench, and was about to give the good doctor the smack-down of his lifetime…until he felt a weight ram into his side. Next thing the hero knew, a foot kicked him in the face, sending him a few feet away from Clara.

As he used his wrench to stand, Ratchet found himself staring directly at the murderer. The lombax was barely able to block as Marcus brought his machete down, the energized blade creating sparks as the two weapons clashed. Anger shined in Ratchet's eyes, and he decided then and there that he'd finally had enough of the torment this human had put him through. The hero broke the lock, and seized the chance to bash the man in the face.

Marcus smirked, wiping a spot of blood from his lip. "Looks like the game just got interesting," he mused, twirling his machete in his hand.

"I'm not playing games, Marcus," Ratchet growled.

The killer rushed him again, swinging his machete in the hopes of landing a hit. The two revenge-fueled enemies dueled ferociously, and several times Ratchet found himself blocking with his wrench just to stay alive. The lombax hastily dodged another swipe, tripping Marcus and angrily punching him across the face repeatedly.

"Murderer!" Ratchet roared, letting loose on Marcus all the anger and the pain that the human had caused when Grim was killed.

He continued to vent his anger, raining down blow after blow, only stopping when Marcus forcefully grabbed the lombax's wrist. The man twisted the limb slowly, causing Ratchet to cry out in pain.

"Then what the hell does it make you?" Marcus shouted back just as vehemently, seizing the moment to elbow Ratchet in the face. The hero staggered back, clutching his bruised wrist. Marcus now looked twice as enraged as he did before. The man's nose was bleeding, but otherwise he seemed unfazed by Ratchet's assault.

He shook off the blow, and engaged Ratchet once more. Ratchet blocked each blow from the killer with ease, but the lombax knew he was slowly growing tired. Marcus, however, didn't seem to tire at all, his hatred pushing him to keep fighting. After what felt like a hundred perfect blocks, Ratchet finally slipped up, but that was all it took. Marcus' blade caught Ratchet's arm, causing the hero to drop his wrench in shock and pain.

The human raised his serrated machete to strike down the lombax. "Tell your mentor I said hello, monster!" Marcus seethed. In the distance, Ratchet noticed Nefarious reaching for a detonator.

He knew all too well what that detonator would be used for.

Now fueled by a desire to rescue Clara from Nefarious' insanity, Ratchet crashed into Marcus' ribs, just enough to make the assassin stumble backward. He rushed toward the mad doctor, equipping his combustor and launching a blast of plasma that knocked the detonator out of the cyborg's hands. Ratchet took the chance, rushing toward the detonator, but Nefarious was quicker. His rocket boots were more than enough to possess the device once more.

"Aw, look at that," Nefarious cackled. "A lombax that can't fly! Oh, well!"

"Wait!" Ratchet hollered, but to no avail. Nefarious pressed the button.

Immediately the ground began to shake just as violently as it had back on Zanathir. The satellite mounted on top of the burning building was suddenly shaken by a series of small explosions. Clara yelped in surprise when a piece of debris landed next to her. Ratchet looked up in time to see the satellite begin to collapse.

"Clara! C'mon!"

"I'm stuck," she cried out. It was then that Ratchet noticed the piece of scrap that had her arm pinned. As he struggled to lift the remains off of his friend, Ratchet noticed Marcus clamber to his feet. The face of hatred he had showed Ratchet earlier was replaced with a look of fear. The hero couldn't understand why. Maybe Marcus was concerned for himself?

Clara finally wrenched her arm free, but by then, the remains of the satellite had completely separated from the fiery wreck. Ratchet stared into Clara's grey eyes, determination shining in his own irises. A determination that had been present since the mission to Veldin, since he lost Grim, and since he nearly lost Clank. A determination to never let anyone he cared about die. Not again.

Ratchet gave Clara one solid push, before attempting to leap to safety himself. But it was too late.

 _CRASH!_

The satellite rained down waves of pain on the lombax. Horrid agony overtook him, and he could feel the metal beams' crushing weight as his consciousness faded. But as the darkness closed in on him, Ratchet smiled. He didn't smile because he was in pain. He smiled because Clara wasn't.

After that, the lombax felt no more.


	14. Chapter 14

**I don't normally put notes at the beginning of my chapters, but I just feel like I have to warn you guys about what's to come.**

 **Warning: the following chapter contains descriptions of blood, tear-jerking moments, and a plot twist that will probably leave your head spinning. Viewer discretion is advised...well for the beginning of the chapter, anyway.**

 **Happy reading. :)**

* * *

Clara's eyes abruptly opened at the smell of smoke.

Slowly, the woman sat up, struggling to recall the events of the past few minutes. What had happened? The last thing she remembered was Ratchet pushing her—

Oh no. Ratchet!

The young woman's reaction was much quicker than the realization itself. Clara scrambled over to the scrap pile that was once the satellite tower, reaching for the nearest pieces of debris and tossing them aside. She continued this pattern for at least a few minutes, before she finally caught a glimpse of her friend. Or what was left of him.

Clara gasped in shock and horror at Ratchet's battered form. Bleeding scrapes and cuts matted his fur. His right arm was definitely broken now, thanks to Marcus' cruel treatment of it prior. She took a look at the rest of him, and felt like throwing up. There was _shrapnel_ in his _torso_. God, she didn't even want to look at the horrible sight anymore. The broken lombax's shallow breathing was the only sign of life, though with his injuries, Clara briefly wondered how Ratchet was even capable of breathing at all.

The woman began to panic, as she lifted the remaining junk off of the hero. There was very little she could do to help him. She'd foolishly left her nanotech crates back at her ship. Plus, what little nanotech she had wouldn't be able to heal Ratchet's injuries entirely, and there was no way she could move Ratchet without that shrapnel in his chest damaging him further. But she couldn't leave Ratchet alone either. Nefarious would kill them both on sight, and as for Marcus, she couldn't bear the thought of having to fight her…her…

She couldn't even bring herself to say the damned word. Not after everything Marcus had done.

Lost in her nerve-wracked thoughts, Clara barely noticed Ratchet's signature wrench, ash settling over the weapon as it lay a considerable distance from where she stood. Taking further stock of her surroundings proved to be valuable, as Marcus' hoverbike was cleverly parked on another deck adjacent to the ruins she now stood on.

A light bulb went off in her head. She could free Ratchet with the wrench, find a way to distract Nefarious and Marcus, and then haul Ratchet back to her ship using the hoverbike. The woman sighed in worry. She knew she couldn't leave Ratchet alone, but…what choice did she have?

The short trek to retrieve the wrench was a painful one. Nefarious was nowhere to be found, but Marcus was a different story. She could feel the killer's shocked glare burning into her soul, as she sprinted back to the scrap pile that imprisoned the lombax. The only thing stopping her was a metallic hand slamming into the junk wall.

"You're a real thorn in my side, you know that?" Nefarious growled, brandishing his claws. The cyborg stepped in front of the woman, his imposing form creating a deadly barrier between her and Ratchet. "I've waited almost a year for this moment, girl. I've endured worse pain than you could possibly imagine, and yet that squishy doesn't realize the pain he's caused me. I think it's time I reminded him. Now, stand aside!"

Clara's hands firmly grasped hold of the weapon. She knew Ratchet's wrench wouldn't do her much good against Nefarious' advanced weaponry, especially since she was more skilled with a blade than with a blunt weapon. However, she refused to give up. Her father and brother had both reminded her time and again to stand her ground, from the moment she was born to the moment she left to volunteer her time to the less fortunate on Zanathir. She knew her father had served with Nefarious once, back when they both were fighting for the Galactic Rangers. Had her father still been alive, he would've been ashamed of what Nefarious had become.

No, she wasn't giving in that easily. Not yet. Turning to face the enemy, Clara dared to look the bastard in the eye.

"Go to hell," she bravely spoke, inwardly grinning at the sheer amount of venom she was able to inject into her voice.

The first strike came close to tearing through Clara's side. The second barely missed her head. The woman kept resisting Nefarious' attacks, though her lack of experience with the advanced wrench made it difficult for her to keep up. In her field of vision, Clara could barely notice Marcus, the hatred he had once shown turning to fear in a matter of moments. One powerful slash from Nefarious sent the wrench flying from her grasp. The woman reached for the nearest piece of debris, but it wasn't enough.

The young woman tore her eyes away, as Nefarious stood above her, ready to finish the job. "Don't worry, squishy. It's okay to die. I'll take _real_ good care of your lombax friend!"

* * *

The first thing Ratchet felt as his consciousness returned was pain. Pure, white-hot pain, lancing its way up and down his whole body. Ratchet slowly opened his eyes, and what he saw astonished him. He now knew why Marcus was so concerned earlier. Marcus wasn't concerned for himself at all.

The murderer was concerned for Clara.

The young man twisted his machete around Nefarious' claws, glaring at the mad doctor with pure coldness in his blue eyes.

"No one touches my sister," Marcus growled.

In a matter of seconds, the murderer had used his weight to throw Nefarious far away from Clara. Wait a minute. Ratchet wasn't sure if the pain was dulling his sense of hearing, or if he was actually going crazy. But had he heard right?

Did Marcus actually call Clara his…sister!?

The hero decided he must have been either hallucinating or going into shock. There was absolutely no way that murderer could be Clara's brother.

Ratchet was grateful that Nefarious was distracted as Clara rushed toward him. Her brown hair was matted with dirt, and her eyes were wide with fear. "C'mon, Ratchet. We don't have long. I'll help you up," the woman stammered. Ratchet would've been grateful for the help, but he was too busy holding back a scream.

There was a shard of metal in the left side of his abdomen. Ratchet feared that if he tried to pull it out, his lung would come out with it. Panic began to overwhelm the lombax, and he found himself breathing much more quickly than before. The mere sight of the embedded shard made Ratchet sick to his stomach. He wanted it out. He wanted it out now!

Ratchet slowly lifted his shaking hands to grasp the sharp debris, only for Clara to grab his arm in response. "No! Leave it in. We need to get out of here."

"N-no," Ratchet gasped. "G-get it out!" The lombax grasped the sharp object and tried to tug on it, but Clara's strong grip on his arms prevented him from making any progress.

"Pull it out! Please…" Ratchet cried out painfully. The shard hurt even more now, causing pained tears to leak from his emerald eyes, and making his insides feel as if they were on fire.

"I'm sorry," the woman whispered. With that, the woman flung Ratchet's arm over her shoulder, and practically dragged the lombax away from the observation deck. She carried Ratchet through the hallway, and onto the deck where Marcus' hoverbike waited.

Ratchet barely felt Clara set him down in a corner of the deck near the vehicle. In his semi-conscious state, he noticed her slam the door shut and barricade it with one of the many chunks of debris scattered around the area. She turned and knelt down so that she was at eye level with him. "Okay. Just stay here. I'm going to try to hotwire this thing," she stuttered, trying in vain to keep her voice calm.

"Clara…" Ratchet tried calling out, but his fading consciousness prevented him from saying more. The hero fought to stay awake, his vision dimming as he watched Clara focus on her task.

 _Look on the bright side,_ he thought. _At least I'll get to see Grim again._

* * *

Clara was so focused on the task at hand that the sudden banging on the barricaded door startled her. The survivor turned her attention to the door, where a familiar hand was pushing its way through.

"Clara! Open this freaking door!" Marcus hollered, continuing his assault. The exposed gash on the side of his neck, as well as the burns on his arm, proved that the killer's battle with Nefarious had not been an easy one. She wondered what had happened to the nightmarish doctor. Knowing Nefarious, the cyborg might have escaped the distraction, and possibly even the planet altogether.

The woman looked into Marcus' eyes, hoping to find any piece of the brother she had relied on most of her life. But all she saw was a hateful desire to end the life of the lombax coughing up blood in the corner.

"Stay away from him!" she yelled back, her voice quivering with terror.

 _Just a few more wires to connect, almost there..._

"You are _not_ going to get in my way!" her brother—no, the murderer that wore her brother's face—roared. Her brother would never go this far. Her brother would never kill anyone in cold blood. Her brother would never even consider putting Clara in danger. Yet here he was, doing just that. All for the sake of revenge.

Hope swelled in Clara's heart as the hoverbike spurred to life. Immediately, the survivor dashed over to Ratchet. In a matter of moments, she placed the crippled lombax on the back of the bike, before hopping on herself.

One final look into Marcus' eyes, and she finally accepted the painful truth.

Her brother, the brother she knew before, was gone.

Clara hit the accelerator, and sped off into the brutal wasteland. She was so concentrated on wiping the tears from her eyes that she barely noticed her passenger slip off the bike.

"Ratchet?" she worriedly asked, pulling the hoverbike around. She leapt off, kneeling down next to her friend. The lombax looked even worse now. His eyes were closed, and his breathing sounded much more strained and labored. Trying her best to calm her trembling hands, she searched for any sign of a pulse, any sign that indicated that he would make it.

She felt nothing.

"No!" she gasped, tears spilling from her grey eyes. "No, no. Ratchet! Ratchet, wake up! C'mon, you gotta wake up!"

The lombax didn't respond.

"Please, don't die! Ratchet, please wake up. I can't lose anyone else! I can't! Please…" Clara begged, shaking Ratchet's still form, praying for a miracle. She wanted Ratchet to wake up, she _needed_ him. She wanted her lombax friend back, wanted her older brother back instead of that psychopath. She wanted her whole damn life back. "Ratchet…" she whispered.

Then, as if God had heard her, a spark of hope—no more than a spark—finally revealed itself.

* * *

 **God, I'm so evil.**

 **Let's be honest, I just about cried while writing that last part. But, I can't say I didn't warn you.**

 **Also, I'd like to give you guys a heads up. It may take some time for the next chapter or two to be up. My computer's all of a sudden deciding to flip me the bird. Simply put, it's acting funny.**

 **Anyway, if you like, be sure to smack that review button. Thanks for the awesome support, and have a great day. :)**


	15. Chapter 15

No matter how hard he tried, Clank couldn't stop staring at the lifeless form of his best friend.

Clank had never experienced true fear before, aside from his fear of lightning. But the fear he felt when Clara frantically told him over the communicator that Ratchet was hurt…that fear was even more overwhelming. If Clank had known something bad was going to happen to Ratchet, the warbot would've insisted on going with him.

When Clank had finally caught a glimpse of the torn apart lombax, it took some quick thinking on Clara's part to hold back the pint-sized bot. 'Torn apart' was putting it lightly, given the situation Ratchet was in. Said situation involved the lombax lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to all sorts of tubes and life support machinery. The twisted spiral that was Ratchet's snapped wrist was forever engraved in the robot's memory, no matter how many times Clank stared at the wrapped limb.

The worst case, however had to be the piece of shrapnel that had made a new home in Ratchet's left side. The injury was so severe that Ratchet's heart had failed once the doctors finally removed the damned object. Thankfully, the lombax was revived in time.

The warbot swore that as soon as Ratchet recovered from the medically-induced coma the doctors placed the lombax in, Clank would ensure that his best friend never continued his pursuit for this killer, Marcus. Technically, the assassin's full name was Marcus Westbrook now, given what Clara had grimly told the robot earlier.

Clank had no idea how long he'd been sitting in the chair before the door to Ratchet's room opened. Clara strutted right past the warbot, ignoring his figurative look of worry. Her face said it all. She felt just as guilty as Clank did. Immediately, the warbot hopped down from the chair. Taking one last look at his best friend, Clank sighed. He walked over to the nightstand, and pulled a photo out of his chest compartment. It was a picture of Ratchet and his adoptive father.

As he placed the photo on the nightstand, next to Ratchet's aviator cap and wrench, Clank knew it needed to be done. Maybe the familiarity of the photo might help the lombax breathe easier…if only as easily as the ventilator he was hooked up to would let him.

Reluctantly, Clank left the room, and turned to follow Clara.

"Miss Westbrook," he called, struggling to keep up with the young survivor. Clara, however, didn't even look like she was trying to stay ahead of the defect.

After a few more tries at getting her attention, Clara finally stopped, and turned her head to look at him. "What do you want, Clank?" she sighed.

"My apologies, Miss Westbrook, but where are you going?" Clank concernedly asked.

The young woman regained her composure. "I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. I'm done."

"Done with what?" Clank pressed on.

"I'm just…done." The warbot noticed Clara's voice becoming more impatient with each passing second. "If I stay here, Clank, Ratchet's going to be the least of your problems. The one time I let my guard down, he ended up getting hurt because of it. I can't let that happen again. I'm overconfident, okay? I can't help it!" Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes, the whole of the woman's pain escaping her lips.

"Clara," Clank's monotone voice stopped the woman in her tracks. "I do not think overconfidence is your problem at all."

"Well, what the hell is my problem then?! Huh?" she yelled, causing the doctors strolling down the corridor to stare at the pair.

"It is the same problem Ratchet suffers from. Ratchet is afraid to let go of what happened to that poor girl on Corethra V. I assume you are experiencing a similar situation. Am I wrong?"

Clank knew he had trapped the human in a box. He could tell from the look in his friend's eyes that she was hiding something. The woman took a deep breath, and after a few false starts, she finally began to speak.

"My father," she began, her normally strong voice quivering from fear, or from pain. Clank wasn't certain. "He was a veteran of the Galactic Rangers, and he loved to hunt. He was the one who encouraged me to help out the villages on Zanathir. Once, when Mark and I were sick, dad simply sat down and taught us to play cards. He rarely ever got mad at someone, and he forgave people in a heartbeat.

"My mother…God, I miss her. She was one of those people who was nicer than she had any reason to be. Marcus and I could come to her with any problem, and she would sit with her head leaning on her hands, lost in thought. Just when Mark and I considered giving up and forgetting the concern, our mom would finally think up the perfect solution. She was a lifesaver to me as I grew up."

Tears slid down the young woman's face, and Clank was shocked to his core when he heard her next choice of words.

"Their names were Thomas and Amelia Westbrook. The Rangers…they…they killed them, back on Corethra V."

If Clank actually had a beating heart, he was certain it would've snapped in two when he heard Clara's story. As far as the accusation went, the warbot was shocked, to say the least. Granted, the Rangers normally blew stuff up first, and asked questions later. Clara's story was still unnerving, nonetheless. How did the Rangers kill Clara's parents, and why?

"I am sorry for everything you have gone through, Miss Westbrook," the warbot expressed.

"It's not your fault, you know," she replied, kneeling down so she was at eye level with him. "I guess this is just the universe's way of saying 'screw you.' Besides, you weren't the one who dropped those bombs on my home, and you certainly weren't the one who tried to kill Ratchet," she finished darkly.

"So what will you do, now that your brother knows you are helping us?"

Of all the replies Clara could've given, Clank hadn't expected her to start laughing. Clank saw no joy or humor in the expression, though. To him, this laugh held nothing but misery and loss. It was the laugh of someone who had lost all hope.

After a while, Clara's laughter died, the expression on her face growing even more serious. "My brother isn't that…that psycho. My brother was the older boy who would go to the movies with me, build blanket forts with me, and protect me from the monsters under the bed. But now, Marcus _is_ the monster, Clank, and this time, I've got no one to protect me from him. Up until this point, I knew that monster had a killing streak going on. I guess I realized too late that…that my brother was the first victim."

Clara sighed in a mixture of worry and exhaustion. The warbot stood and watched her, feeling pity at what she had gone through, and shock at the fact that she would reject her own brother. But then again, Marcus had probably been quick to judge her, as well. After all, his home had been destroyed too—

Wait! Clara mentioned bombs. Bombs dropped by Galactic Rangers.

"Oh, dear," Clank realized.

"What? What is it?" the woman asked, concern written on her face.

The robot pondered for a moment. Those bombs had been set off by Rangers, that much was certain. But why? There was only one way to find out, though; and Clank knew just the person to ask about it.

"Please follow me, Miss Westbrook," the warbot calmly replied, as he began to stroll down the hospital corridor once again.

"Where are we going?"

"I would like to stop and talk to a friend," Clank answered confidently.

* * *

A sigh of worry and exhaustion escaped Elaris' lips.

She'd been having trouble concentrating on her work ever since she heard the news. She'd warned Ratchet that Nefarious and Marcus would both try to kill the lombax. Ever since Ratchet had been transported to the hospital on Kerwan, Elaris had made certain that he was safe. She'd had security guards check in on the lombax every now and then. Clank had volunteered to watch over Ratchet, and the woman they had found, Clara, had been all too eager to defend the hero, in case Marcus or Nefarious came to finish the job.

She was just about to turn off the computer for the day when she heard a voice.

"Elaris? Are you in here?" Clank's voice rang out.

The hacker turned around to spot Clank, along with his new friend, Clara. Immediately, she rushed over to the warbot, grabbing him in a tender hug. "Hey, Clank," she sighed.

"Pardon the intrusion, Elaris, but I was wondering if you had those weapon schematics," Clank suggested.

Elaris broke the hug, and turned back to her computer. It took some digging, but she finally found the schematics. "Yeah, they're still here. Why do you ask?"

"Are there any ship schematics in there for, say, a bomber, perhaps?" Clara asked.

The tactician skimmed through the blueprints, only stopping when she spotted the bomber schematics. "Okay, here they are," she replied.

The warbot took a look at the drawings. His green optics narrowed at the delivery sheet.

"Oh, dear," Clank remarked, as he stared at the order. "Take a look at this."

Clara had to squint to read the text properly:

 _Item Name: Hellhound-class bomber_

 _Manufacturer: Gadgetron Corporation_

 _Deliver to: Corethra V_

 _WARNING: Highly thermobaric explosives. Use with extreme caution. Avoid usage in heavily populated areas._

 _Shipping note: Thanks to all the hard workers on Kalebo III for their critical response to the evolving situation on Corethra V. The bombers will give us the means to suppress the hostile warbot forces by any means necessary._

The signature for Franklin DeMarco was scribbled underneath the delivery order.

"This is insane," Clara fumed. "Why would DeMarco do something like this?"

"Something tells me he didn't. Look closely," Elaris pointed out. She did a scan of the signature. "This signature was clearly forged. Even if he signed this, I don't think Franklin DeMarco would approve of this. I know Captain Qwark worked with DeMarco before. The former ambassador always took a look at how his actions might affect others."

"Someone may have set Mr. DeMarco up," Clank realized. Although he didn't know who. Elaris had told him and Ratchet earlier that those blueprints were given to Jacopo Drek by one of the Rangers. How would they even know about the blueprints?

"What about Cora?" Clank suggested.

"She was my first guess, but I ruled her out. I've seen her signature, and it's nowhere near as fancy as DeMarco's. Besides, I trust Cora. I know she wouldn't do something like this."

That ruled Cora out as a suspect. But who else could it be? Brax had no clue on the schematics. The only other person to have known about the schematics was—

Clank's eyes widened in realization. The only other person who knew had to have been the one to send the Rangers to retrieve them in the first place.

One ambassador had been set up by another.

"Elaris, contact Mr. Carlisle," Clank demanded.

The hacker tried establishing a connection, but to no avail. Instead, a voicemail played. "Hi, this is Detective Carlisle. If you're listening to this, then that means that I'm either busy at work, or I'm busy reading _The Maltese Falcon_. Please leave a message after the tone, and have a nice day."

"Ugh," Elaris groaned, ending the call.

"Interesting," Clank mused. "Clara and I will track him down. Stay here and see if you can find more information."

"No problem," Elaris replied. Her next choice of words stopped Clank in his tracks. "How's Ratchet doing?"

"He will pull through, Elaris," the warbot replied. "I have faith in him. You should too."

"I guess Ratchet's as stubborn as you say he is," Elaris sighed. "Be careful, Clank. I can't afford to lose two friends in one day."

Clank smiled back at her in reply, before following Clara out the door.

They had an ambassador to track down.

* * *

 **Well, there's another chapter up. Here's some quick notes, in case anyone's confused.**

 **First off, I honestly thought the whole _Maltese Falcon_ reference suited Dimitri, given his detective background. **

**Also, I wanted to clarify that nanotech isn't exactly a miracle medicine, in this story. I always thought it should help Ratchet heal quickly, and it does, but I decided to reduce its ability on broken bones and internal injuries, just for the sake of realism.**

 **Anyways, if there's anything I can improve on, feel free to let me know. Thanks for the support, and I will have the next chapter posted soon. Have a nice day! :)**


	16. Chapter 16

The pain and soreness in his body finally caused him to stir.

The lombax could faintly hear two voices talking, but he couldn't make out who the voices belonged to. All he could comprehend was that one of the voices belonged to a woman.

A woman…the last thing he remembered was a woman.

Ratchet tried opening his eyes, only to clamp them back shut as a harsh light blinded him. He could hear the same woman's voice in the background: "…we need to stabilize…he's waking up…"

Wait a minute. He recognized that voice. It was Elaris.

Ratchet wanted to call out to her, to tell her he was all right, but the pain in his arm and stomach was beginning to overwhelm him, and he felt so tired…he just wanted to sleep…

* * *

The harsh light wasn't nearly as blinding the second time Ratchet tried to open his eyes. Still, it didn't keep him from squinting. The lombax didn't recognize his surroundings. Everything around him was white. His hazy vision still had difficulty coming into focus, but he could feel the sting of a needle in his arm. Ratchet glanced over at his limbs; his right arm was in a sling, the wrist itself tightly wrapped in a cast. The other arm housed an IV needle. The hero's best guess was that he was in a hospital. _But, if I'm in a hospital, then how did I get here?_ Ratchet let out a groan of discomfort. He attempted to prop himself up on the bed, but the jab of agony in his stomach held him back. His heartbeat quickened as he peeled back the blanket, finding a thick, red-stained strip of gauze wrapped around the area where that shrapnel had explored Ratchet's insides. The mere sight of the ghastly wound was enough for the hero to snap his head away in disgust. _Ugh. Glad that thing's not in me anymore,_ he thought. _Oh God…_

The lombax's gag reflex kicked in as he turned his head to the side. He would've thrown up had there been anything in his stomach. That was when he noticed the photo, collecting dust bunnies next to his wrench and aviator cap. He tried his best to keep his trembling hands steady as he grasped the photo with his good hand

Maybe it was the picture itself. Maybe it was the sensation of feeling slowly returning to his hand. Or maybe it was the recognition of his adoptive father standing beside him in the photo. Whatever it was, it caused him to clutch his head in agony. The heavy rainfall of memories pelted the lombax, one after another.

Corethra V, Nefarious, Clara's rescue, Marcus, the satellite…

He remembered. He remembered everything now. Nefarious and Marcus had tried to kill Ratchet. He had gotten hurt rescuing Clara. Yes, he had gotten himself hurt, and Clara had taken him to a hospital. _Wait! Clara! Is she…is she all right?_ His thoughts blurred together in a mess of confusion. The lombax's whole body ached with his injuries, and he felt weak from the mixture of pain and sedatives.

Setting the photo of himself and Grimroth down, Ratchet gazed at another one. Just like the last photo, he recognized both people instantly, though he wished he hadn't. Clara sat on a bench under the tree in the background, her bright, glistening smile contributing to the glare in the picture. The lombax would've been amazed at how beautiful she looked, if he didn't recognize the man sitting next to her, his arm draped around her shoulders.

It was _him_. Marcus. Here, in the picture, sat the bastard who had constantly tried to make Ratchet's life a living hell. This, however, was a stark contrast to what Ratchet had experienced. Back on Corethra V, Marcus had been nothing short of cruel and brutal. In the photo, the murderer was smiling, as if he actually enjoyed Clara's company. He flipped the photo over. "Siblings for Life" was scrawled on the back.

Ratchet's breath hitched in his throat, and he dropped the photo in shock and disbelief. He knew Clara mentioned having a brother. He heard Marcus refer to Clara as his sister, but he thought the pain from his injuries had caused him to hallucinate at the time. If Marcus' death threat toward Nefarious on Corethra V didn't show enough proof, this picture surely did.

He still couldn't believe it. Marcus was _actually_ Clara's brother!

Ratchet's train of thought was interrupted by the sound of an opening door. He recognized the visitor. Elaris stood in the doorway, her worried look silently showing that the hero had been missed dearly. Her eyes trailed to the lombax. One look at Ratchet's face, and the notebook she held dropped to the floor. "Ratchet?" she questioned, wondering if he was really awake or not.

"Nice to see you too," Ratchet weakly mumbled, his voice sounding and feeling like sandpaper. The lombax thought that Elaris would break down, hug him tightly, and tell him how much she missed him. The sharp pain in Ratchet's left cheek proved otherwise. "Ow!" Ratchet bluntly groaned, rubbing the injury with his good hand. "I'm already hurt here, remember?"

"I swear, you can be so reckless sometimes," Elaris scolded. "It's good to have you back, though."

Ratchet's weak smile dropped instantly, as he recalled how he ended up in the hospital to begin with. "How's Clara? Is she safe? Where is—"

"Relax, Ratchet. She's fine." Elaris placed her hand on the lombax's shoulder. He leaned into her touch, the feeling reassuring him that this was real, and that he was awake. He'd barely felt anything at all while he was knocked out, so the feeling Elaris' warm hand calmed him further.

"What's that?" Ratchet curiously croaked out, casting a glance at the fallen notebook.

"Oh, that girl that was with Clank, she…she forgot this back at my office," she replied, plucking the book off the floor.

Ratchet's curious look instantly turned to one of shock. "And you're just reading it? Put that back! There's no telling how Clara will react if she finds out." Ratchet's already-strained voice couldn't handle the change in tone, and punished the bedridden hero with one hell of a coughing fit. The Ranger tactician took notice of this, returning to Ratchet's bedside with a glass of water. He gratefully gulped it down.

"After everything you've been through, Ratchet, I figured a stolen journal would be the last thing you'd be concerned about," she replied, reluctantly handing the book to Ratchet.

Ratchet set the empty glass down on the nightstand, and snatched the journal from his friend's fingertips. He was just about to close the book when his eyes trailed over the latest entry:

 _June 19_

 _I'm growing more and more worried. I haven't seen or heard from Marcus for months. I get what he's going through, I mean, they were my parents too. But Marcus lost his girlfriend to some sniper, and then he just left without a goodbye. I know he tends to make rash decisions, but this is going too far._

 _I'm going to try calling him tomorrow. God knows it's only a matter of time before he does something he'll regret, and I'll be damned if I don't do anything to prevent it._

Ratchet let the journal fall from his hands. Clara knew about Marcus' murders. Maybe she couldn't do anything to stop Marcus, but Ratchet didn't blame her for that. Marcus had killed several innocent people, including Grim. He had tried to hurt Ratchet and Clara, too. But it was the bit about Marcus' girlfriend that struck him the most. It really showed Ratchet a different side of Marcus, a side that the killer almost never showed these days. Marcus had a family, a life, people who loved him. In a way, he was no different than Ratchet.

"Any…any idea who killed them?" Ratchet tried to ask, his throat still sore from what he guessed was a lack of speaking. _Ugh. How long was I out?_

Elaris averted her eyes, signs of shame evident on her face. "Ratchet…we did this to them. The Rangers bombed Corethra V. We killed them."

The look of shock on the lombax's face revealed it all, but he did his best to keep his emotions in check. "And…the schematics?" Ratchet pressed on.

"I think we know who did that, too. Clank and I just found something in Carlisle's office. We think he gathered the evidence of the bombings, and he pinned it on Franklin DeMarco."

Ratchet's eyes slowly widened in realization. He knew now where this story was going. And he didn't like the outcome one bit. He could see her red hair now, her emerald eyes as they conveyed the pain he had inadvertently put her through. That girl had gone after DeMarco, and Ratchet had shot her during the struggle. He knew he had shot that girl. But he didn't know that the real Marcus Westbrook had died inside, as well, and that the psychotic monster who murdered Grim had been born in Marcus' place.

Ratchet had killed Marcus' girlfriend. He had _killed_ her.

"No," Ratchet stammered, unable to believe it. The lombax wanted so badly to wake up from this dream—no this nightmare. But he couldn't. This was real, just as real as Grim's death. He put on the bravest face he could before replying, "I may have done some bad things, but Marcus made things worse by murdering my mentor. He needs to face justice for what he did."

"Justice, or revenge?" Elaris countered. "Ratchet, Clank's right. This isn't you."

The lombax shook his head in confusion. The memories flashed through Ratchet's brain. Memories of Marcus throwing the knife that had cut Grimroth's life short. Memories of Ratchet angrily attacking Marcus, trying to hurt—no, trying to kill—the young man. Ratchet couldn't deny the truth any longer. He had wanted revenge from the very start. He was so worried about becoming like Marcus that he'd failed to see that he _was_ like the killer all along.

The hero had failed. He had failed his friends. He had failed Grim. Worst of all, he had failed himself. He had failed himself when he thought he was better than the killer, when he thought he wouldn't go down the same road.

Ratchet's posture slumped in defeat. His breathing became more erratic. Tears pooled in his eyes, but he stubbornly held them back. _No. I am not going to cry. Not now, and certainly not for that psycho._

The first tear slid down his cheek before he even noticed.

 _Dammit_.

The dam that prevented Ratchet's sorrow from showing its face finally broke. More tears trailed down his face, no matter how many he wiped away. As he struggled to contain his sadness, he became barely aware of Elaris sitting beside his bed. The young woman placed her arm around the lombax's shoulder.

Ratchet's stubbornness snapped like a rope then and there. Racking sobs escaped his body as the lombax wept for all that he had lost. His friends. His mentor, Grim. The girl he had killed. He cried for Clara and her family, and—as much as he hated it—he cried for Marcus and his destroyed relationship, too. All of the weight that Ratchet had been carrying for the past few days came crashing down on top of him. He sat there and cried for what seemed like an eternity.

After a while, Ratchet's sobs finally seemed to slow down. He sniffled, using the sleeve of his hospital gown to wipe his eyes. "Where are they?" he croaked out. "Where's Clank and Clara?"

"They're back in Carlisle's office talking to him, I think," Elaris answered.

Ratchet's tear-stained eyes widened in realization. If Carlisle truly was the one responsible for the sacking of Corethra V, then the hero's friends could be walking into a trap. "I need to go after them," he stated, struggling to climb out of the bed. It wasn't easy; his legs felt as heavy as lead, given that he hadn't moved them in a while, and Ratchet constantly found himself tangled in the numerous tubes and wires he was hooked up to. The fact that he had only one good arm didn't help much, either.

"I wouldn't advise that, Ratchet," the tactician worriedly replied, placing her hand on his shoulder. "You were hurt pretty badly back there. You could end up making the injuries worse."

If Ratchet had heard her warnings, he didn't show any sign of it. He continued to wrestle with the sheets and the tubes confining him.

"Ratchet, that's enough!" Elaris pleaded, her hands failing at keeping the lombax still. If he kept struggling, chances were that the doctors would take notice and try to knock him out. Not that Elaris would mind, given that trying to keep Ratchet still on the bed was like trying to put a cat in a bathtub. And given Ratchet's species and his stubbornness, this scenario automatically made him "the cat."

"Let me go!" Ratchet shouted, his voice full of panic and determination.

Elaris knew Ratchet would probably want to march up to Dimitri and give him the what for. She figured it was just the Ranger attitude in him. Maybe Dimitri was responsible for all of this, but they didn't know that for certain. "Please, just calm down. Nefarious and Marcus Westbrook are both wanting to mount your head on a wall. If they know you're alive, they won't hesitate to do just that."

"So what do you have in mind? Huh?" the hero shot back, exhausted from the failed escape attempt moments before.

"The bad guys don't know you're alive, and Clank and Clara don't know you're awake. I suggest you keep it that way. You need to lie down and rest. Just let me look for your friends and Carlisle. That's my job. Regaining your strength so you can shoot the bad guys is your job. Understand?" Her stern voice left no room for arguments.

The lombax reluctantly nodded his head, allowing his body to relax. Elaris stayed on the edge of the bed with him, stroking the fur on Ratchet's head and watching him with worried eyes. Ratchet's eyes struggled to stay open, and Elaris' petting only soothed him further. In minutes, the lombax was silent, his light breaths and snores indicating that he was sound asleep.

Silently so as not to disturb him, Elaris stood up and exited the room, slowly closing the door behind her so the sound of the latch clicking wouldn't wake him. She let out a sigh that was heavy with all of the fear she'd been keeping inside of her for the past few hours. As much as she felt she would need Ratchet's help tracking down Carlisle, the lombax needed time to rest…and time to accept the truth. In the back of her mind, Elaris knew the truth was what Ratchet would struggle with the most. She hoped he would accept his actions on Corethra V quickly. She wished there was more time to heal the wounds that Nefarious and Marcus had caused.

She just hoped Ratchet could heal the wounds he himself had caused as well. She hoped that Dimitri wasn't the one responsible for the Westbrook family's demise, and she hoped against hope that Ratchet and Clara could save Marcus Westbrook from himself. She felt a tear trickle down her cheek, one that was laden with a single thought:

 _God save them all…_

Had Ratchet not been locked in a deep sleep, his ears would've perked up at the sound of muffled weeping, emanating from behind the bedroom door.


	17. Chapter 17

_How could she?_

Of all the thoughts racing through Marcus' head, this was the one that tortured him the most. As he stood at the edge of the rooftop, the rain chilling him to the bone, the assassin at last believed that he was alone. Completely, utterly alone.

His family, his life, had been torn apart during that battle on Corethra V, never to be recovered. And it was all because of them. The Galactic Rangers. His father, a veteran of the Rangers, had told Marcus story after story of their heroics, of their brave victories and triumphs, of how they saved countless lives.

Now, as Clara's shocked look played in his brain like a broken record, Marcus realized how much of a fool he'd been to believe such lies.

He knew he'd never moved on from that day when he lost everything. And he knew he never would move on unless he took action, unless he made that lombax feel the pain he felt. Truth be told, however, he'd never even thought about the consequences.

The spy…screw him. He stood in Marcus' way. He deserved it.

Jacopo Drek…that son of a gun was just as foolish and arrogant as his late brother. After all, the assassin never could stand backstabbers such as the Blarg. It was why Marcus chose to work alone in the first place.

The Veldin native who got in the way, the first time Marcus tried to kill that lombax, what was his name? He couldn't remember at the moment. Unlike his previous victims, Marcus didn't blame the civilian. After all, the Fongoid was doing what any person would do—protecting the ones he loved.

DeMarco…he'd been connected with those bombings. He deserved it, he…he…

Oh, who was Marcus kidding? He had _slaughtered_ DeMarco, constantly ignoring the former ambassador's shocked face while the knife in again and again. And when it was all over, he felt a tear slip down his cheek at the former ambassador's final words.

"Please accept my condolences," were the last whispers Marcus had heard from DeMarco's lips.

And then there was Clara. Marcus hadn't killed her of course—he could never do that—but she might as well have been dead to him. She sided with the enemy. She probably didn't even care where her own brother was at the moment, or even if he was still alive. Well, that was fine. He didn't care about her as well. Or at least, that was what he kept telling himself.

A sudden _clang_ of metal snapped the survivor out of his thoughts. Acting almost on instinct, he pulled out his machete and activated it, the blade humming to life. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the noir landscape in front of him, and for a moment, he considered whether or not the Rangers were coming after him.

He noticed the red, hate-filled eyes before he noticed anything else.

A flash of movement barely escaped Marcus' gaze, his machete flying out of reach before he could react. The assassin recovered from the initial strike quickly, sparks emanating from his blaster as he squeezed the trigger. The attacker crumpled over, the counterattack catching him off guard.

"What the hell do you want from me?" Marcus growled, pulling out his knife and holding it dangerously close to the watcher's throat. The young man could see the innocent life leave that Fongoid's eyes, as he stared at the knife. The images were monsters, shadows threatening to leap out and overtake him, but he shoved the images back into the corner of his mind. Marcus had dealt with the shadows of his past so many times that he'd learned how to hold them back.

To the assassin's surprise, the figure started laughing. It was a shallow chuckle at first, a chuckle that served as a slow crescendo into a maniacal cackle. Talon-laden fingers grasped the knife, forcefully lowering the blade as the figure slowly stood up. The stalker stood inches taller than Marcus, its red eyes glowering down at the survivor.

He didn't need the sight of the green, domed head to recognize the figure for himself. His distant blue eyes widened in horror and realization, and his hand shoved out, swiping the knife back and creating distance between Marcus and the monster.

"Damned scrapheap," the man muttered, raising his blaster to finish the job. He had every right to end this son of a bitch for what he did to Clara.

"Go ahead," Dr. Nefarious tempted, snatching the muzzle of the blaster and pressing against his own forehead. If Marcus thought he himself was crazy before, this guy certainly beat him by a landslide. "If you want to shoot me that's fine. But wouldn't you rather shoot that lombax first?"

 _How does he know?_ Marcus couldn't help but think. _How does he know what I'm after?_ His face showing utter shock, he forcefully pulled his blaster away from the madman's head, shoving the weapon back in its holster. "You didn't answer my question."

"You impress me, boy," Nefarious stated, with a hint of what could only be described as the closest alternative to admiration. "What with the way you ambushed that squishy lombax and all. In fact, you're display of brutality impressed me so much that I'd like to make you a little…offer."

"So?" Marcus shot back heatedly.

"So, you and I have a common enemy. That lombax has a tendency to take away the things we enjoy. You and I know that all too well, don't we?" Nefarious paced around the young man, his sharp claws clasped behind his back. "My proposition is this: you and me, alliance. What do you say, Marcus, isn't it?"

The young murderer couldn't help but scoff. _Do you honestly expect me to be that stupid?_ "Why?"

Nefarious' eyes narrowed as he noticed Marcus' reaction. "Oh, c'mon. I don't bite. I mean, can you just imagine, getting your revenge on that lombax and knowing that I'll be doing the same?"

"You tried to kill Clara. The only thing I'm imagining is lopping your head from your shoulders," the murderer replied.

"No need to daydream about _that_. You made _that_ little notion clear when you trashed my warbots," the cyborg deadpanned. "You can glare at me all you want, Westbrook, but I know your hatred for Ratchet outweighs your hatred for me. Hate," he hissed, leaning in so close that Marcus could feel the darkness illuminating those glowing red orbs. "That is the one thing you and I have in common, and it's also the weapon that will cause that squishy lombax's downfall."

Marcus let the mad doctor's words sink in. He had a point. They could accomplish much if they worked as a team. Marcus would finally have the revenge he always yearned for. But the cons outweighed the pros. He had no idea if he could trust this scrapheap. After all, Nefarious did try to kill his sister, back on Corethra V. Plus, the Rangers were much more organized than they were, and Marcus knew he and Nefarious didn't have allies to help them. "It will take considerable effort," he explained. "We don't exactly have the strength of an army."

"We may not need an army," Nefarious pointed out. "I've worked with the Rangers before, boy. I tried to destroy the Hall of Heroes once upon a time, but that arrogant moron Qwark was there, ready to toss me into a prison cell. The Galactic Rangers are at their strongest when the fight is on their terms. But if we can divide and conquer them, they will be no match for us. That's where you come in," he finished, pointing a sharp claw at the young man's chest.

"Suppose I actually say yes to your offer. What do you want me to do?" Marcus asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You focus on distracting the Rangers while I pay a little visit to the Hall of Heroes. When the time is right, you and I will deliver the final blow together. We will crush those squishy fools for their blatant disregard of common sense. We will rip them apart, take their precious ambassador and captain out from under their noses, and we will watch as their beloved lombax "hero" drowns in his failure and misery. It's a win-win, really. I can finally trample on the rotting corpses of the people who ridiculed me…and you can have your girlfriend's murderer, to do with as you see fit."

The demented cyborg villain stopped in front of Marcus. His red eyes were consumed by greed and desire, and his metallic jaws were set in a crude imitation of a smile. "Interested?" Nefarious offered, holding out his robotic hand.

After a moment's hesitation, Marcus shook the cybernetic limb vigorously, and, if only for a moment, the ghost of a sinister smile appeared on his face. "I'm in. Who do you think should die first?" he asked.

* * *

 **Well, Ratchet, I guess you should start saying you prayers.**

 **I realize that this chapter is kind of short, but don't worry. I'll have plenty for you guys to read in the next chapter. Any thoughts? Comments? Does anyone think I gave enough equal attention to Marcus and Nefarious? If you have an answer to any of these questions, feel free to let me know in the reviews.**

 **Anyways, on a much less related note: Who's excited for Christmas?**

 **That's all for now. Thanks for the support, and have a nice day. :)**


	18. Chapter 18

Trembling hands fumbled with the door handle. Deep down, he had always known the Rangers would single him out. He just hadn't expected it to be so soon.

Dimitri Carlisle sighed in relief as he observed Ratchet's sleeping form. _At least the rookie's safe._ The thought filled Dimitri with hope, though he knew the hope wouldn't last unless he made use of it. When he sent those bombers to Corethra V, Carlisle felt he had done the right thing. He thought he had secured the Rangers' defense of the planet. It wasn't until he saw the carnage later on the news that the ambassador realized how mistaken he had been. Truth be told, he had thought most of the civilians had had the sense to evacuate.

 _Maybe I didn't do the right thing after all…but it's too late now._ Dimitri leaned on the nightstand, gazing at Ratchet's cluttered belongings. He couldn't help but roll his eyes. The Markazian understood that Elaris wanted Ratchet to feel protected while he was recovering, but even Qwark believed it was a bit too much protection. Ratchet was tougher than the security guards outside the door, even if the lombax was injured. Besides, that traitor Nefarious and Clara's demented brother don't even know Ratchet's alive.

Pulling himself back to the present, Dimitri knew he needed to make this trip quick. Otherwise, the Rangers would realize the truth and cut off all hope of escape. In all honesty, it wasn't even the Rangers that Carlisle was scared of. He knew they would understand his plight if he simply told them the truth. The Westbrook siblings were the ones Dimitri was truly terrified of. He knew Clara would have a hard time controlling her own anger once she found out. As for Marcus, the detective had seen what the murderer could do; he'd witnessed it all from the hidden camera he placed onto the Ranger's transport, back when they were on Veldin. There was no way Marcus would spare Dimitri just because the detective was honest.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" Dimitri stuttered, his voice breaking down from the weight he carried on his shoulders.

A soft moan caused the Markazian to whip his head toward the bedridden lombax. Ratchet's eyes gradually fluttered open, blinking in confusion at the figure standing by his bedside. "Dimitri?" he mumbled sleepily. "What are you doing here?"

"Sorry to disturb you, kid," Carlisle muttered, trying and failing to meet Ratchet's curious gaze. "I…I just came to wish you farewell." _Yeah, that seems to be the best course of action. Say goodbye, get as far away from the Rangers as possible, start a new life…_

"Huh…why?" Ratchet asked, confused. "What's going on here?"

Dimitri turned toward Ratchet, the ambassador's normally brave face filled with sorrow. "I…" He couldn't bring himself to admit it. The confession was right on the edge of the detective's tongue, yet the words stubbornly refused to pass his lips, no matter how much he tried to force them out.

"It's true, isn't it? What Elaris told me?" Ratchet dreadfully inquired.

 _Elaris told him already?_ The Markazian nodded in response, unable to respond in any other way. He took a deep breath. _That's fine. Saves me the trouble of having to say it anyway._ "I didn't realize…I guess I just panicked. Some former Ranger gave me the coordinates and told me to contain the threat by any means necessary. I never knew—"

"You never knew there were people there…"Ratchet finished, understanding where Carlisle was coming from. The lombax had seen that look on someone's face before. It was the same look of someone who was only now experiencing the consequences of his mistakes.

"Do you have any idea what it's like, Ratchet?" Dimitri continued, his voice breaking from the fear, or from the guilt. He figured it was all the same to the rookie. "Hearing their dying screams inside your head, seeing families and lives ruined because you were too stupid to notice. Have you ever woken up, night after night, gasping for air because of that voice in your head that says it's all your fault?"

Ratchet stared at the panicked detective, pity shining in his emerald eyes. He was reminded of himself when he woke up screaming every night after Corethra V. It seemed that for everyone involved—Ratchet, Clara, Marcus, and now Dimitri—the battle had left scars that were hard to erase.

"I've made mistakes too," Ratchet replied wholeheartedly. "Whatever it is you're going through, Dimitri, you don't have to fight it alone."

One comment. One comment was all it took to put a smile on Dimitri's face. All this time, the Markazian believed he needed to carry the weight of the Rangers on his shoulders. But now…now someone finally understood his plight.

For a moment, Ratchet thought he noticed the shadow of a smile on the detective's face. "Thanks, kid. I mean that," Dimitri replied.

The conversation was derailed by a sudden call from Dimitri's communicator. "This is Carlisle."

"Carlisle, this is Cora," the voice of his fellow Ranger answered. "We need you to meet us at the abandoned shopping mall. One of my friends just sent out a distress call."

Dimitri sighed in annoyance. _No rest for the weary._ "What do we know about the situation?" Dimitri questioned inquisitively.

"Scans are picking up an armed suspect within the mall," Cora replied back. "We're trying to track him, but he's jamming our transmissions. We were lucky enough to reach you."

"Copy that," the detective answered. "I'll be there as soon as I can." He turned to where Ratchet lay. "Sorry to cut this meeting short, Ratchet."

Ratchet said nothing in reply, lost in thought. If this person could jam transmissions, then how would Cora be able to contact Dimitri? It was almost as if this person was singling Dimitri out…

The lombax's eyes lit up in realization. He knew who the armed intruder was now. And needless to say, the intruder was _certainly_ singling Dimitri out. Dimitri would be walking into a trap. "Wait! Dimitri, you gotta take me with you."

The detective raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Not. A. Chance. Look, kid, you've only got one good arm, and I can't allow you to run off and end up breaking more bones. Isn't the point of the bed so you can _avoid_ situations like this?"

"Dimitri, please. I know who that person is. Just because my arm is broken doesn't mean I can't fight," Ratchet pleaded. "I can help you!"

A sigh of regret escaped Carlisle's lips. He ran his hands through his black hair in frustration. _I swear, you better not make me regret this, Ratchet._ "You have a habit of making things difficult," he replied, reaching for his communicator. "Cora, it's me again. You wouldn't mind if I brought along some…unexpected help, would you?"

"A little busy right now, Dimitri—"

The sound of static was the scariest sound Ratchet had heard in that moment. Dimitri's panicked voice was the second scariest. "Agent Verelux? Cora, do you read? Cora?" The sinister silence was all that was needed to confirm the detective's fears. "Dammit. Okay, fine. If you're coming with, then we need to hurry," the Markazian snapped, draping the lombax's good arm over his shoulders. "Think you can walk on your own?"

"Last I checked, my _arm_ was broken, not my _legs_ ," Ratchet joked, forcing a pained smile as he struggled to climb out of the bed. "I'll be fine."

The lombax's feet nearly gave out upon touching the cold floor. Thankfully, Carlisle's arms were waiting to catch him. Pain showed on Ratchet's face as the wound on his stomach flared into a sting of agony before slowly subsiding. Ratchet was grateful that Dimitri was there to support him, because the hero felt like giving up then and there.

In the corners of his vision, Ratchet noticed the practical junk pile containing his wrench and swingshot, the belongings collecting dust bunnies next to the nightstand. The lombax also noticed a familiar red sweatshirt hanging on the chair. He sighed in frustration. He knew the police needed that sweatshirt for evidence, but he'd rather not have to fight Marcus in nothing but a hospital gown. _No thanks. I feel exposed enough with the broken arm, thank you very much._ The swingshot was easier to attach to the sleeve on the hooded shirt. The attire itself was much harder to pull on, and the broken arm and the pain in his stomach certainly weren't doing Ratchet any favors.

The hole from that shrapnel hadn't been stitched up yet…

Ratchet was dimly aware of Dimitri sliding the lombax's broken wrist into the shirt sleeve. The detective reattached the sling, and fitted the damaged limb through the restraint as well.

"Let's get going," Ratchet suggested, slinging his wrench over his back. "We've got some friends to save."

 _And I've got a killer who needs saving from himself._

* * *

 _Ten Minutes Earlier:_

* * *

Natalia's mind raced as she reached for her communicator. Her hands shook so much that she had a hard time dialing the number. The Kerwan resident put the communicator to her ear, drawing in slow, shaky breaths in a futile attempt to calm herself down.

"This is Agent Verelux," Cora's voice answered.

"Cora, it's me," Natalia stammered.

"Natalia? What's wrong? Do you need help?" The voice of Natalia's old childhood friend was filled with warmth and concern. It made her heart ache with what she was about to do. She had always dreamt of seeing Cora again after so long. _God, I just wish it could've been on better circumstances._

"Please, listen to me," she shakily started, her heart jackhammering in her chest. "I need some officers at the Old Kerwan Mall."

"Why? Is something wrong?"

Natalia cursed under her breath, only to let out a sob as the blaster barrel poked into her back, urging her to continue. "I found an intruder. I didn't follow him, but I think he's armed. Bring Brax, and…maybe you should bring Detective Carlisle too."

"Copy that," Cora responded with authority. "Hang tight, Natalia. We'll be there as soon as we can." The Ranger was the one to end the call.

The Markazian civilian let the communicator clatter to the ground. _I'm sorry. You have to understand, I didn't have a choice._ Reluctantly, she turned to face the assailant.

"Is it done?" he coldly asked, his blue eyes reflecting nothing short of apathy.

She nodded, the lump in her throat preventing her from saying much else.

"And she believed you?"

"Yes…" she managed to whisper.

"Good…" he replied, his aim on the blaster never wavering. Deep down, Natalia felt pity for the armed madman in front of her. She had heard about what he had gone through. Everyone felt sorry for what happened to the Westbrook family, and especially for the consequences it had on their children.

Her train of thought was derailed by the metallic clank of cybernetic feet. "Got to admit, I didn't think you could get them to come running that quickly," Nefarious complimented.

The Westbrook swiveled to face Nefarious. "I've got some tricks up my sleeve. Are your forces ready?" the killer demanded.

"I've got at least three squads of warbots who have a bone to pick with the Galactic Rangers. That lombax and his squishy friends won't know what hit them."

"Good," he replied, casting his eyes back to Natalia. "What do we do with her?" he asked, his voice showing only the slightest hint of what Natalia could call concern.

"Loose ends need to be tied up somehow," Nefarious remarked, his sinister red eyes burning into the woman's soul. "Do with her what you will."

 _God, his presence is more terrifying than the boy's._

The mad doctor turned away from her, the rockets on his feet propelling him into the night, and Natalia let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Marcus turned to the woman, his icy blue eyes letting the concern fully manifest. "You're lucky that there are lines I still won't cross," he whispered coldly.

 _SMACK!_

The blow sent The Markazian into the cold, rancid puddle, her ears ringing from the hit. Her vision gradually came back into focus, and she glanced at the empty space where Marcus had once stood. _This is bad. Really bad._ The Rangers would be here any minute now, and they would be walking into a trap. All because of her.

 _What have I done?_

* * *

 **Getting close to the end people. Fingers crossed.**

 **Thanks for the support, and have a great day. :)**


	19. Chapter 19

As he gazed through the window of Dimitri's police transport, Ratchet would've given anything to erase the memory of the horror that was the Old Kerwan Mall's current state. Smoke billowed from every other shattered window, sending a horrifying signal to every citizen in Kerwan, as if to say, "This is merely the beginning." If Ratchet looked closely enough, he could almost make out the flames licking the interior of the abandoned mall.

"What did we miss?" Ratchet dreadfully asked.

"I guess this is what happens when you let the Rangers deal with their own problems," Dimitri solemnly stated. "This is why the ambassador program was created: to find solutions to problems that don't involve blowing crap up. If I'd known the Rangers were just going to blow crap up anyways, I wouldn't have even signed up."

"They may blow crap up, Dimitri, but they're pretty good at saving lives while doing it. I mean, just look at what happened with Umbris."

"Sure, Umbris was a success. What about Corethra V?" Dimitri argued, his eyes narrowing.

"We can't save everyone," Ratchet defended.

Carlisle scoffed. "Just because you can't save everyone doesn't mean you can't try. Look, I've seen your talent, on and off the battlefield. And I'm certain you can put that talent to better use than with a bunch of trigger-happy commandos."

Ratchet's eyes widened in shock. _Is Dimitri implying what I think he's implying?_ "What's your point?"

"My point is this: I need help saving lives, and the Kerwan Police Force needs help bringing criminals to justice. Maybe…maybe you could fill both of those roles. What do you say?"

The lombax thought it over. It seemed like a good offer. He could help prevent more disasters like Corethra V from surfacing, and he could stop criminals like Marcus and Dr. Nefarious in their tracks. "It sounds awesome, but…what about Clank? Cora, Brax, Qwark, and Elaris. What would I say to them?"

"Qwark didn't like anyone hogging his 'precious' spotlight to begin with. Your friend Clank can join us too, but as for the others…I can't say how they'll react. I'll stand by you, whatever you choose, Ratchet. Just…promise me you'll think it over, okay?"

Ratchet looked Dimitri in the eye. "I promise," the lombax said.

The ship shook as it touched down next to the mall. "All right. Westbrook's probably inside. Let's give the bastard one hell of a welcome," the detective grinned, equipping a Plasma Striker. Ratchet equipped his combustor in his good hand, and stood back as Carlisle kicked the door open.

The subdued sounds of blaster fire filled Ratchet's ears. In the distance, flashes of light danced around the faded background. Support beams and tools lay exposed from when Marcus probably forced the workers renovating the place to cut their shifts short. The lombax couldn't help but mourn pitifully over the abandoned mall. _It's a dark day when a place where Grim and I made so many memories becomes just another battleground._ Ratchet could recall a time where he and Grim had bought Ratchet a new rocket sled, back when the lombax had accidentally trashed the old one on Veldin. Ratchet had been a little kid back then, and he'd always dreamed of stepping foot back into the Old Kerwan Mall. He just wished he could've done so under less dangerous circumstances.

The lombax and the detective creeped through the haunted lobby. Ratchet's ears perked up as the sounds of gunplay grew in volume. Dimitri eyed the construction beams, and swiveled his head toward the hero, a grin on the Markazian's face. "Looks like the construction workers didn't bother to clean up."

"Good news for us."

"No kidding. Follow me," Dimitri ordered, climbing up the ramp to the balcony with the lombax close on his heels. The balcony seemed to wind in all sorts of directions. After going in winding circles for what felt like hours, Ratchet and Dimitri found themselves at the edge of the balcony, overlooking the chaos below.

The balcony offered a significant vantage point to the two newcomers. Ratchet gazed down at his friends in worry. Cora and Brax seemed to be holding their own against the endless onslaught of skeletal Zurkons, but Ratchet knew the case would shift more to the opposite if he didn't step in and help. The machines never seemed to tire, and while Ratchet knew the Rangers could defeat an army of warbots, he knew firsthand that the same could not be said if they challenged Marcus as well.

Time to crash this party with a bang! Ratchet smiled to himself, pulling out a Fusion Grenade. He lobbed the explosive at the nearest group of warbots, sending the scrap piles flying everywhere. "Need some help?!" Ratchet hollered down to the Rangers.

Cora glanced up, a gasp escaping her lips. "Great to have you back!" she yelled. Brax threw a fist into the air, similarly grateful for the assistance.

Unfortunately, the Rangers weren't the only ones who noticed Ratchet's timely intervention.

"Here's how this is going to go down!" Marcus yelled over the loudspeaker. "I'm giving out ten-thousand—no, _twenty_ -thousand bolts to the first machine to bring me that lombax's head, ears and all!" At least ten to twelve warbots raised their blasters in response, aiming them at Ratchet and Dimitri.

"Oh boy…" Ratchet groaned.

"Take cover!" the detective ordered, ducking behind the balcony. Ratchet quickly followed suit as combustor bolts sailed through the air, creating a deadly laser show of red and orange. Equipping his plasma rifle, Dimitri stared through the scope, spotting a warbot and saying hello with a bolt through the machine's skull. He repeated this pattern with two more Zurkons, the energy piercing through the robots' circuitry instantaneously.

"There's too many of them!" Brax yelled over his communicator. "Carlisle, any ideas?"

"I've got one, but it's as reckless as the devil," the Markazian replied, narrowly ducking down as a lucky shot from a Zurkon sailed past him. "Ratchet, there's a crane up ahead. Use it to do something about the warbots down below. I'll cover you."

"Got it," the lombax replied. He took off into a sprint, firing his combustor randomly at any warbot within range. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, his bare feet pounding on the metal floor. Ratchet's breath came out in quick gasps, and the wound on his stomach didn't do him any favors, but the lombax kept on sprinting. He had to.

Two unarmed, bloodthirsty warbots were the first thing Ratchet was greeted with as the lombax neared the controls for the crane. The machines lunged forward, their sharp claws aiming to sink into Ratchet's fur. As he ducked underneath them to avoid the attack, the lombax saw the opportunity and leapt for it, shooting one of the warbots down with a barrage of combustor bolts. The other Zurkon, however, was much quicker, shoving Ratchet against the glass window before hurling him away from the crane. The lombax suppressed a yelp of pain, his already battered body absorbing most of the impact.

Ratchet struggled to reach for his combustor, but the Zurkon was already on top of him, clawing at the lombax's face with its sharp claws. The robot's red eyes radiated pure hatred. Ratchet shoved and kicked at the warbot in a futile attempt to shake the machine off.

 _BANG!_

Gears and oil rained down on Ratchet as the warbot fell, torn apart by Dimitri's lucky shot. "You're welcome," Carlisle called out.

"How do you work this thing?" Ratchet muttered under his breath. His good hand trembled as it grasped onto the crane controls. "What do you need me to do?" he called to Dimitri.

"Improvise, dammit!" the detective sharply replied over the communicator. Ratchet glanced behind him and noticed the Markazian crouched behind the balcony. Sparks bounced off the crude cover as a bolt landed too close for comfort. He looked down and noticed Cora and Brax, each struggling with fending off multiple Zurkons. Ratchet needed to do something, and fast.

 _C'mon, Ratchet. Think._ "There's got to be something useful that this crane could do. As he stared at the chaos below, Ratchet noticed a crudely stacked pile of crates, probably the result of some construction worker who didn't do his job. A grin crept up on Ratchet's face. That could work.

The lombax took the control stick, and pushed it to the right. The crane veered in the same direction, swinging toward the crates.

 _CRASH!_

The containers toppled, catching the unsuspecting Zurkons off guard and flattening them. "Way to go, Ratchet!" Cora yelled. "Scratch one warbot army."

Ratchet exhaled a sigh of relief. His friends were safe, for now. Dimitri ran over to the lombax. "Nice work, rookie. I can see now why Qwark trusts you."

"We're not finished yet," Ratchet reminded the detective. His eyes, filled with determination, narrowed as they glared at the doorway. He snatched his combustor up from the grated floor. It was finally time to finish what Westbrook had started. "Let's show Marcus what happens when he messes with the Galactic Rangers."  
With his finger on the trigger, Ratchet creeped toward the doorway, with Carlisle watching his back in case more Zurkons came out to play. The lombax kept his eyes on the corners, expecting more surprises from the machines.

What he didn't expect was a surprise call from his communicator. "Oh boy," Ratchet groaned, worried that Elaris or someone else had noticed him out of bed.  
"Let me do the talking here," Dimitri advised, answering the call. "This is Detective Carlisle. Please keep this channel open for emergencies only, thank you!" he sarcastically announced. Ratchet covered his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing.

"Dimitri, would you kindly explain to me what made you think bringing Ratchet along was a good idea?" Elaris demanded, frustration laced into her tone.  
"Don't shoot the messenger; the lombax wanted to help!" the detective justified angrily.

From behind him, Ratchet let out a sheepish chuckle. _Damn. Here I was hoping Elaris wouldn't notice._ "Hey, Elaris," Ratchet guiltily spoke. "Listen, about earlier—"  
"You know what, I don't even want to know. We could certainly use the extra help, anyways," the tactician begrudgingly replied over the communicator. "Westbrook's definitely stepped up his game."

"We noticed," the lombax deadpanned, shuddering at the thought of those warbots. "Marcus had Zurkon commando warbots helping him. I think it's safe to say he's pissed off."

"Yeah, Mark always had an 'assertive' approach to protecting me," another female voice chimed in.

Ratchet recognized the voice in a heartbeat. "Clara. Are you and Clank safe?"

"Ms. Westbrook and I are fine, Ratchet. I should be asking the same of you," Clank's voice answered worriedly. "Do me a big favor, Ratchet: never go on a mission without me _ever_ again!"

"Great to see you too, pal," Ratchet responded. "You still want to help? Have Elaris scan for more of those Zurkons. Either Nefarious is sending those junk piles to do kill me "and Marcus, or…" Ratchet trailed off. _I'd rather not have to explain my other theory._

"Wait, you think Nefarious and Marcus are…working together?" Clara questioned in shock.

"It would explain a lot," Dimtri confirmed, supporting Ratchet's suspicions. "If that's the case, then we need to move quickly to apprehend them both."

"I've just narrowed down Marcus' location. He's in the upper balcony offices, just ahead of you. Happy hunting," Elaris told the two. "Oh, and Ratchet…please be careful."

"Ratchet's in good hands, Elaris," Dimitri guaranteed, ending the transmission. "Let's move, rookie."

Dimitri kicked the door open, his Plasma Striker ready to fire. Ratchet kept his head on a swivel. Marcus has got to have more surprises. Maybe some traps, some more warbots. Maybe he might try to end us himself. Ratchet glanced around the office, particularly noting the large glass window.

The lombax noticed the cylindrical device tossed his way before he noticed the hand that threw it.

"Watch out!" Carlisle warned, grabbing Ratchet and pulling him away from the explosive.

A blinding light exploded in the lombax's vision. He collapsed to the floor, rubbing his eyes with his good hand. Acting on instinct, Ratchet reached for his combustor, anxious about what other traps Marcus would deploy.

 _BANG!_

The plasma shot slammed into Ratchet's firearm, the weapon slipping from his grasp. His eyes narrowed as he turned to face the enemy. It was Marcus, and he looked pissed. The murderer kept the barrel of his modified blaster pressed against Dimitri's forehead."Take one more step, and my next shot goes right through his thick skull!" the Westbrook son threatened, his cold eyes glaring daggers at the lombax.

"Go ahead," Ratchet challenged, his stance showing that he wasn't backing down any time soon. "Shooting Carlisle's only going to give us more motivation to take you down."

Marcus rolled his eyes, clearly bored of the lombax's talk. "For God's sake, just freaking stop, Ratchet. Stop pretending the Galactic Rangers are heroes because, believe me, they're not. They're just a bunch of trigger-happy fools with a self-obsessed coward for a leader. Clara should've known better than to choose the wrong side."

Ratchet dared to look the human in the eye. "You're wrong, Marcus. Clara didn't choose the wrong side. You just assume she did. You claim to be dispensing justice, but you're really no better than Nefarious is. You're your own worst enemy."

"Is that what you think?" the assassin challenged, his blue eyes narrowing to slits. "I didn't bomb my home to the ground. You did. I didn't bury my parents in a pile of smoking rubble. You did. I sure as hell didn't shoot my own girlfriend through the heart. You did," the man spoke, his voice lowering to a threatening whisper. "When are you and your Galactic Rangers going to realize that you simply can't gun down all of your problems?"

"When are _you_ going to realize the same thing?" Ratchet fired back. "Last chance. Stand down."

The two enemies stood their ground, waiting for each other to make the first move. Given that his focus was more on Ratchet than his hostage, Marcus appeared to take his attention off Dimitri. That was a mistake.

Dimitri pulled a knife out of his pocket. A yelp of pain erupted from the killer as the policeman rammed the switchblade into Marcus' leg. Ratchet wasted no time in retrieving his combustor. He stared at the gun and cursed his rotten luck. The assassin's earlier shot had fried the plasma generator; the combustor would explode into pieces if Ratchet tried using it in its current state.

The lombax's eyes widened as Westbrook rushed toward Dimitri with his own knife. The killer swiped back and forth with the blade. Dimitri avoided the swings as best as he could, but soon enough, he began to run out of room to dodge. Marcus used this to his advantage, kicking the Markazian toward the window. As he gathered his bearings, a lightbulb went off in the lombax's brain. He glanced at the violent cracks Dimitri unwittingly inflicted on the glass window.

 _Can't believe I'm about to do something this crazy…_

Taking a deep breath, Ratchet rushed toward Marcus as the killer was about to strike. He threw his weight toward the window as he rammed into the killer. Shards exploded outward. Ratchet could feel the wind rushing through his fur as he and the killer plummeted from the sky. As skyscrapers flew past his field of view, the hero noticed Marcus freefalling just as unsteadily. Ratchet knew that unless he did something, this landing was going to hurt for both of them.

 _Please don't miss, please don't miss._ Ratchet's swingshot launched toward the nearest building, and his freefall came to a sudden halt as the grappling hook lowered him toward the mall's lobby. The lombax breathed a sigh of relief. That was too close.

As for Marcus, however, all bets were off.

 _Oh, no._ Thinking fast, Ratchet threw all his momentum toward the killer. The swingshot detached, and Ratchet flew toward Marcus, hoping to catch him. The only thing he didn't count on was Marcus' brutal determination. The lombax barely caught the shimmer of the blade aimed for his throat. Ratchet swatted at Marcus' arms. The lombax's eyes widened in horror, and he threw his good hand in front of his face as the glass roof of the mall finally lurched towards them both.

 _CRASH!_

 _Ok…_ Ratchet thought wearily. _I'm not ever trying that again…_

Ratchet lay on the damp floor of the mall lobby, his lungs taking in the sweet air that hadn't been present during his makeshift skydive. His wrench lay secured on his back, making the position he was in even more uncomfortable. The lombax wanted to get up, but his body refused his mind's order to listen. Pain erupted from Ratchet's previous injuries, and for a brief moment, he wished he'd had more time to recover.

Struggling to climb to his feet, Ratchet was careful not to step on the broken glass surrounding him. The lombax felt tiny slivers of glass digging into his fur, and he let out a sigh of relief, knowing he had made it unscathed for the most part. Pulling out his communicator, he breathed, "Cora? Brax? Dimitri? Is anyone there?"

"Ratchet, that was straight up the most badass skydive I've ever witnessed…well, right until the end," he laughed. "The Rangers are out of the building. As for me, I owe you one, rookie. What about you? Are you ok?"

"I'll live. Pulled a few stiches, but nothing to be worried about."

"Ratchet, what the hell happened?" Clara yelled, interrupting the conversation. "We lost you for a second there."

"It's him. Your brother. He's here," Ratchet gasped. "Look, I know you care about him, and all, but—"

"No!" the woman interrupted sharply. "Ratchet, do whatever you need to…Marcus is no brother of mine. Not anymore."

The voice held nothing but heartbroken contempt, but Ratchet brushed it off. _You might've given up on your brother, Clara, but I won't._ Ratchet turned to the seething mad human atop one of the platforms, the latter struggling to stand. In the back of his mind, Ratchet knew that Marcus needed to know the truth. And he also knew it was time to finish what the lombax had inadvertently began. "Please, stop this now," Ratchet begged, mentally preparing himself. The lombax pulled out his wrench, more out of warning than an actual desire to fight. "This isn't going to change what happened."

"I don't give a damn…" Marcus deadpanned, activating his machete. "You took Lily from me…"

The young man-turned-murderer dropped down into the clearing. The two predators circled each other, one dying to tear into his prey, the other uncertain if the person he was staring at was even worth fighting anymore.

"You honestly think I wasn't as affected as you were?" Ratchet spoke softly. "Have you even considered what you did to me?"

The violent response was instantaneous, and Ratchet was barely able to block the strike in time. Marcus' face conveyed nothing short of determination, and the lombax made a mental note to choose his words carefully, lest he anger the human further.

"What about your girlfriend or sister?" Ratchet tried again. "Did you even consider what they'd think when you decided to try and kill me?"

Another swipe from the killer's machete, another glancing block with the hero's wrench. _Why won't you listen to me, Marcus?_ Ratchet's good arm was already beginning to tire, and he knew he couldn't keep this up forever. He needed to end this dispute, and fast.

A flash of blue light flew from the barrel of the killer's blaster. Ratchet, unprepared for the surprise attack, barely dodged the blast, but the maneuver left him overexerted, and the overexertion left him exposed. Pain registered on the lombax's face as the killer's energized blade sliced across his shoulder, though he tried his best not to show it. Acting entirely on instinct, the hero threw his wrench at the assassin, knocking the blaster out of Marcus' hand. "Nefarious is using you, Marcus," Ratchet vainly tried to convince his opponent. "Striking a deal with the same moron who tried to kill your sister isn't the best option."

"It's the only option I know will work!" the traumatized murderer retaliated. "Why do you think I sided with Nefarious in the first place? I did it because it gave me a chance to make things right with my family, and with Lily." Marcus' voice was a representative of his torment, the whole of his pain escaping his lips. That didn't, however, stop his tone from lowering to a growl, as he continued speaking. "Do you honestly think I've forgotten how that son of a bitch tried to kill Clara? You won't have to worry about Nefarious, Ratchet. I'll deal with him once I've finished splitting your skull in two!"

He lunged forward again. Ratchet ducked out of the way, the swing and miss nearly causing Marcus to trip. Ratchet seized the opportunity to retrieve his wrench, and swung with all of his might. The weapon smacked Marcus in the back, forcing the human to his knees. Another swing of the wrench sent the killer's energized machete out of reach, and Marcus clutched his hand in pain.

"Look at yourself in the mirror!" Ratchet added. "Do you honestly think "this is the way to make things right? Nefarious doesn't care about you or your family. I know you were too late to save Lily, but it's not too late to do the right thing."

Marcus responded by equipping a knife in his uninjured hand. Ratchet recognized the blade in a heartbeat. That same blade had been the reason for Ratchet's obsession with revenge, the one that had changed his life for the worse. The murderer lunged forward with the blade in a stabbing position. Sweat trickled down the lombax's face as the blade inched dangerously close to his eye, held back only by Ratchet's sheer determination to stay alive. As such, the hero never saw the blow to his face coming. His battered body impacted with the cold concrete.

"I'm sorry," Marcus whispered pitifully, glowering down at the lombax. "I'm sorry about your father. Truth be told, not a day goes by where I don't regret it. It's ironic, isn't it? Considering me to be a revenge-obsessed fool when you're no different. I never asked for this. I never asked to be left miserable and alone, rejected by my own sister! I only asked for justice…and now, I'll receive it!" He gripped his knife in a stabbing position, raising it to end the lombax's life.

 _Well, I tried…_ Ratchet regretted ever forming the thought in his brain. He had hoped he could convince Marcus to abandon his vengeful pursuit. Yet somehow, in the back of Ratchet's mind, he understood that this type of villain wasn't one who could be saved…it was the type that needed to be stopped.

Ratchet reeled his foot back, slamming the limb straight into the killer's…well, suffice to say that Ratchet cringed just as much as Marcus did. The pain registered almost instantly on Marcus' face. The knife fell from his hand, and he collapsed to the floor, his mouth releasing agonized howls and colorful words that Ratchet instantly wished he could forget hearing. As Marcus lay on the floor clutching the most sensitive area of his body, Ratchet saw a few fragile seconds of opportunity.

 _SMACK!_

The killer crumpled, dazed from the unexpected blow to his skull.

The lombax placed a hand over the injury he'd received earlier, the sting of pain slowly subsiding into a dull ache. He took in breath after breath, relieved that the ordeal was finally over. Marcus Westbrook had been defeated. Yet this time, Ratchet didn't feel the pride he normally felt after the Rangers won a battle. He had no reason to celebrate victory. Not now, and certainly not after everything that he had done.

The hero's ears perked up at the sound of a slight scuffle. He turned, concern shining in his eyes when he noticed the abandoned blade where the fallen Westbrook once lay. There was no sign of the killer anywhere in the lobby.

Marcus was gone.


	20. Chapter 20

_I never thought it would look this menacing up close._

Ratchet stared at the blood-stained blade. For some reason, the lombax felt satisfied seeing the abandoned weapon. Maybe it was because Ratchet finally got to take a long look at the sword Marcus had threatened him with so many times. _I've got to remind Clank to lock this up somewhere, preferably a case with a dozen latches and a combination lock. That seems like a good idea._ Ratchet tried to convince himself that Marcus wouldn't be threatening anyone else with the blade anytime soon, but he knew the statement contained a loophole. The killer was still out there, probably plotting his next move against the lombax. For both their sakes, Ratchet hoped that wasn't the case. _Maybe I did manage to get through to Marcus somehow...I guess only time will tell._

It was the ringtone from his communicator that derailed the hero's train of thought. "This is Ratchet," he answered.

"R-Ratchet, it's me," Elaris' voice stuttered. Her tone sounded nervous…scared, even. _Oh no._

"Elaris, are you all right? What happened?" the lombax asked, his tone matching the tactician's own.

"I-I just—I'm all right. I'll live. We're locking down the Hall of Heroes…we tried to stop him, but…" Her fearful voice broke down into sobs of relief.

"Elaris, talk to me," Ratchet calmly addressed, trying his best to keep the fear in his own voice from leaking through. He took a deep breath, feeling the air rush into his lungs as he steeled himself for whatever news Elaris had to give. "What happened?" he repeated firmly.

The lombax could hear a deep inhale from the tactician before she replied, "It's Nefarious. He…he attacked the Hall of Heroes."

No matter how hard he tried, Ratchet couldn't stop the gasp that escaped his lips. "Stay calm. I'll be there as quickly as I can," he ordered, ending the call. Ratchet's reply sounded as soothing as a summer breeze, but even he couldn't hide the fear he held for his friends' safety. _Clank's probably back there. I swear he had better be all right._ He activated his communicator again. "Clara? You there?"

"I'm here, Ratchet. How are you holding up?" The sound of the younger Westbrook's voice on the end of the line caused Ratchet to let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I'm gonna need some transportation," the lombax replied, wincing as his shoulder wound briefly flared into pain once more. _I'm gonna need to patch that up soon, too._ "I'm done here."

"Hang tight. I'm on my way," Clara responded confidently. The communication cut off, and Ratchet found himself left alone again. The lombax glanced around at the smoke and debris cluttering the lobby, lost in thought. _Why would Nefarious attack the Hall of Heroes? All of the action was over at that mall…no. No, that's not his plan, dammit!_ Ratchet's eyes widened in horror as the realization hit him. _Marcus didn't just want me to show up. He wanted to keep the Rangers' crosshairs on him for as long as possible, and I gave him exactly what he wanted._ For Clank's sake, Ratchet hoped he wasn't too late to reverse the consequences of his mistake.

The distant roaring of a ship's engines snapped Ratchet back to reality. He dove out of the way as a shuttle crashed through the roof, sending more glass raining down into the lobby. Wind rushed through the hero's fur as the shuttle slowly landed beside him.

The door slid open, and Ratchet's face lit up in a smile the moment he recognized one of the occupants. "Need a lift?" Clara called out from the passenger's seat.

"I thought you'd never ask," Ratchet joyfully replied. He snatched Marcus' blade up from the littered floor, and hopped into the shuttle. The lombax turned to the pilot. "Get us back to the Hall of Heroes, quickly!" The ship lurched as it began to move forward, the doors sliding shut. Ratchet gazed out the window, able to do nothing except watch as the night's ghostly clouds gradually hid the Old Kerwan Mall from view.

Clara was the one to break the silence. "My brother…" she started, "Is he…dealt with?"

"He's still out there," Ratchet sincerely answered. His friend's sigh, one laden with hope and relief, told Ratchet that he had done the right thing in letting Marcus get away. "I promise you," he continued, "we won't stop until we get Marcus the help he needs. He deserves that much, at least. You both do."

Clara's lips parted into a humble smile. "Thank you."

Ratchet's eyes fell to the blade on his lap. _Oh. I almost forgot._ "Here," the lombax thrust the machete into Clara's smooth hands. Her eyes glanced up at him, as if asking permission. "Take it," Ratchet instructed the human. "Hide it where your brother won't find it. Make sure it's never used for cruelty ever again."

The Westbrook daughter nodded to the lombax in understanding. "I will."

Ratchet, satisfied with Clara's answer, turned his eyes back to the lights that dominated Aleero City, and continued to enjoy the ride back to the Hall of Heroes.

The lombax could feel the tension on him before he even stepped into the Hall of Heroes. He looked around at the scene before him, and his jaw dropped in horror. Words could not express the amount of damage Nefarious' violent work had caused. It looked as if a wild pack of Sandsharks had gone on a rampage. Chunks of the ceiling lay strewn about the main lobby. The statue of Captain Qwark seemed to have taken the bulk of Nefarious' rage, the metal scarred with jagged scratches and massive dents from the mad doctor's claws.

The most startling change, however, had to be in the Hall's inhabitants. Captain Qwark leaned on the wall for support as he sobbed into his arm for all he had lost. Cora stood a few feet away, tears filling her eyes at the sight of the ransacked building. Brax and Dimitri both stood vigilantly with their weapons drawn, in case Nefarious decided to show up and trash the Hall some more.

The lombax locked his eyes onto Qwark's sobbing form, and rushed over to the captain. Childish as Qwark looked, Ratchet couldn't help but feel sorry for him. _Hm. Maybe he might know where Nefarious is._ "What happened here, Qwark?" Ratchet desperately asked, hoping to get some answers. "Where's Nefarious?"

"He ran off as quickly as he busted in," Qwark cried out, his voice trembling with terror. "Oh, it was terrible, Ratchet! You should've seen him. He trashed everything. The lobby, the offices, and even the gift shop! Oh, the gift shop!"

Ratchet could tell the stress of the past ten minutes was overwhelming the captain. _I think I'll leave Qwark be for now. I've got to find Clank and Elaris._ The lombax hurried over to the scorched closet that once served as Elaris' control room.

The damage to the control room appeared worse than the chaos out in the hallway. Scorch marks littered almost every corner, painting the room in a burnt shade of darkness. Elaris' computer screen appeared violently shattered; a piece of thrown rebar stuck out from a hole in the screen. Even the weapons and schematics were burnt or destroyed. The only thing that had escaped Nefarious' fit of rage was a small holo-recorder, which sat innocently on the cracked remains of Elaris' desk.

And overlooking the disaster was none other than Elaris herself. The Ranger sat with her knees to her chest, eyes locked onto the doorway as if she expected Nefarious to come back. Those eyes lit up with hope as they glanced at the surprised state the lombax was in. "Ratchet, thank God!" she cried out, yanking the hero out of his stupor.

"Elaris," Ratchet cried, helping the tactician to her feet. "Are you all right?"

She paused a few moments to catch her breath before she answered him. "Other than getting the living daylight scared out of me, I'll be fine."

"Where's Clank?" Ratchet nervously looked around the room, hoping to find the familiar sight of his best friend. All he saw was the same burnt wallpaper that dominated the atmosphere. _No. He's here. He's got to be here!_ "Elaris, where's Clank?" he repeated, his voice more panicked.

Elaris simply pointed behind Ratchet, and the lombax turned to stare at the holo-recorder. Curiosity and suspicion shone in his eyes. Before he knew it, he walked over to the device and activated it.

Ratchet's eyes narrowed into slits at the hologram before him.

"Surprised to see me so soon, squishy?" Nefarious' image greeted, a demented grin on the cyborg's face. "I had a hunch you were involved the minute Marcus vanished and didn't bother to report back. No matter; he served his purpose, and now that purpose is done. Which reminds me, I really should congratulate him on snagging your feeble squishy brain's attention so easily. How unfortunate now that I need to snag that attention back!"

It was what Nefarious dragged into the image with him that turned Ratchet's curiosity to horror.

 _Oh no. Clank!_ Ratchet gasped in horror at the battered image of his friend. It looked as if the warbot had gotten into a fight with an army and lost. The image shifted suddenly, and Nefarious and Clank were replaced by a crowd of civilians, lined up and on their knees as if they were facing a firing civilian's face revealed some form of fear, regret, or pain. One Fongoid man apparently had the audacity to salute his captor with his middle finger. The Markazian woman next to the Fongoid couldn't stop sobbing, more tears replacing the ones she wiped away. Her young son and daughter both looked equally as terrified, their innocent eyes pleading for hope that Nefarious would never give to them.

"No! Nefarious…have you gone completely insane?!" Ratchet cried out in shock. The hero had always known the mad doctor was a bad guy, but never in his life would he have predicted that Nefarious would go this far.

The image panned back to Nefarious. "Such a shame…these folks were just stopping by to meet the famous 'heroes' of the Solana Galaxy. How ironic that the ones they look up to will instead be their downfall," the mad doctor continued, his eyes glowing with fire. "I know what you're thinking, Ratchet! You think you can just kick the door down, snatch your little backpack here, rescue these poor souls, and bring me to justice. Well, the universe doesn't exactly work like that. You may have gotten lucky with Carlisle and Westbrook's sister, but I've learned from my mistakes since then. You squishies all have a sense of compassion. I mean, look at you! You and Marcus both had the compassion to come to Corethra V when that girl's life depended on it. Now, that compassion has betrayed you. Unless you do as I say, I will not only harm your friend further, but I will also kill each and every one of these squishies…slowly, cruelly, in whatever way ensures they suffer the longest. Starting with this one…"

With that, the cyborg's talons roughly hauled one of the Fongoid civilians to his feet. Ratchet recognized him as the same guy that flipped Nefarious the bird, and the lombax's eyes widened in horror as he realized what the mad doctor meant to do.

"No. Wait, don't! Please don't do this!" the civilian pleaded, struggling to break free from the talons grasping his neck. His struggles were to no avail.

"Don't be scared. You should be thanking me!" Nefarious mocked, the cruel laughter of a demon evident in his tone. "I'm sending you on a one way trip straight to paradise!"

Ratchet couldn't hold back a gasp as Nefarious' claws lashed out, cutting off the Fongoid's screams…and his head.

The cyborg carelessly tossed the lifeless corpse away, and held up Clank once more, brandishing the warbot's damaged body wildly. Ratchet couldn't stop a growl from escaping his lips. _What gives him the right to treat Clank like a trophy? What gives him the right to take innocent lives?_ "This backpack is waiting for you at the Aleero City Power Plant, along with the rest of these pitiful lives. Go there alone, or I will make dead certain that every man, woman, and child in this pathetic city dies reminiscing on how you failed them!" With that, the recording cut out, leaving a bewildered Ratchet standing in the same spot.

The lombax felt a single tear, laden with helplessness and sorrow, slide down his cheek. More threatened to fall, but he would not allow it. Not yet. Not until he had Clank in his arms once more, and certainly not until Nefarious was nothing but a crude pile of scrap metal. Ratchet turned to Elaris. "Make sure the Hall of Heroes is locked down. I'm going to get my best friend back." He turned to leave, but Elaris' gentle hand on his shoulder held him back.

"Ratchet…"

He didn't bother to ask her what was wrong. He didn't need to. No one needed to remind Ratchet that Nefarious was tricking him again. The hero sighed and shook Elaris' hand off. As he stepped outside the office, he noticed the worried faces and desperate eyes of his fellow Rangers.

"He wants me to go there alone, to face him. I thought I was keeping Clank safe by dealing with my problems alone, but now I…I can't," Ratchet admitted. "I can't fight him alone, not again."

"You don't have to."

The sound of Clara's voice caused the lombax to lift his head. The woman stepped forward. "Throughout this past week," she began, "I thought I couldn't fight my problems. But then I saw how you confronted my brother. You kept fighting for him. You saw light in him, even when I wouldn't. You chose not to run from your problems." She looked the lombax in the eye, determination glowing in her grey irises in place of fear. "I am _done_ running away from mine. If Nefarious wants you so badly, he's gonna have to kill me first."

"That makes two of us," Cora piped in, cracking her neck as she stood beside Clara.

Before the hero knew it, Brax and Qwark stood by the two women. "We're with you too," Qwark shouted. "Nobody rips apart _my_ gift shop and gets away with it."

"Amen to that," Dimitri proudly replied, stepping forward as well. "On behalf of Ms. Westbrook—and, given my mistake, I believe I also have a duty to speak for the victims of Corethra V—I stand with you, Ratchet."

Ratchet smiled in awe at the sheer amount of support standing before him. _Wow. And Marcus says the Rangers aren't heroes._ "Then gear up and meet me in the hangar in ten. It's time Nefarious learns what happens when he screws with the Galactic Rangers."

* * *

The protosuits lining the wall sported numerous scars from Nefarious' attack. Weapons lay discarded, either intact, sliced in half, or smashed to pieces. Ratchet would've been bothered by the junk pile that was the armory, but that anxiety faded once he found what he was looking for. It was his old protosuit. The lombax gazed at the dents and scorch marks littering the armor. _It's not much, but it'll have to do. I can't afford to be at a disadvantage. Speaking of which…_

Without hesitation, Ratchet slipped his arm out of the sling, and tossed the restraint aside. He didn't have use for it anymore.

As the lombax carefully fastened the armor on, he knew that he would have to thank Elaris for fixing the suit…if he survived the mission. He flexed his arm carefully. It felt cramped underneath the armor, given that the bandages were still wrapped around the limb, but the lombax knew he would have to make do. The bone was clearly still healing, as evidenced by soreness and pain. He would have to be careful not to hurt his arm further.

Ratchet donned his helmet, and slung his wrench onto his back. His eyes shone with determination, a longing to end all the suffering that Nefarious and Marcus had caused. It was a longing that Ratchet had locked inside his heart for the past few days.

The lombax left the wrecked armory, and walked down the corridor to the hangar bay.

 _It's time Nefarious and I went to war._

* * *

 **The final battle is about to begin.**

 **I'm telling you guys, it has been a wacky summer for me. Writing, work, applying for classes, etc.**

 **Anyways, I haven't got much to say other than this: the end is nigh. Review, favorite, and follow, and I will see you guys later. :)**


	21. Chapter 21

The lights of the power plant occupied Ratchet's gaze throughout the entire trip. Thoughts of what happened to Clank roamed through his brain. There was no going back now. He turned to the team.

"We know what's about to happen," Ratchet started. "We're prepared for it. But the workers in there, the people around the area, they're not." He turned to where Captain Qwark hunched over in his seat. "Qwark, I need you to take Cora and Brax, and keep the civilians as far away from the plant as possible. If any more of Nefarious' warbots show up, you don't hesitate. You've got the best firepower on the planet. Use it."

"We're on it, Ratchet," Cora confidently replied.

"Dimitri, Clara," Ratchet continued, facing the detective and the woman, "you two focus on the innocents inside the plant. I'm trusting you both to look for Clank and the hostages. Get them out quickly and quietly. Dimitri, you've got a good eye. If you spot any workers that are still alive, get them out, too."

"What about Nefarious?" Clara questioned, worry creeping into her voice. "If he spots us, we're as good as dead."

"He won't," Ratchet answered confidently. "He won't see you." Both the detective and the woman looked at him, shock and fear painted on their faces. Ratchet easily understood why. The lombax knew his own part in the plan was probably one of the stupidest things he was ever going to do, but he also knew it needed to be done. _It's me that Nefarious is after._

Unfortunately, it didn't take long for the Corethran to understand where Ratchet was coming from. "You need to find another way," Clara demanded bluntly, her eyes conveying nothing short of concern.

"There isn't another way," the lombax insisted. "I wish there was, but Nefarious said he would kill the hostages if anyone else showed up. This is the only way. Dimitri, what do you think?"

"I agree…with Ratchet," Dimitri added, his own eyes narrowed with suspicion. "I tried fighting the bastard, back on Zanathir. I couldn't defeat him, Clara. If Nefarious spots us, I doubt I'll be able to protect you."

Ratchet took Clara's hand in his own, his eyes bright with hope. "It's ok, Clara. I'll be fine. Nefarious won't back down from a fight with me. I'm certain of it."

"That's what I'm afraid of…" Clara mumbled, just loud enough for the lombax to hear.

Ratchet's ears lowered slightly at Clara's remark. He could feel the emotions swell up within him, but he shoved the feelings back down just as quickly. _Not now. Clank needs us. He needs me._ Instead, Ratchet turned his head toward the gunship's door as the vehicle landed at the rendezvous point.

Qwark faced the two Rangers accompanying him. "All right, then. Let's move." The captain hopped out of the gunship, Cora and Brax following suit.

"Good luck out there, Ratchet," Cora called out.

The lombax sent her a salute in response as the gunship took off once more. Cold, brisk air swept through his fur. The hero kept his eyes on his teammates as long as he could before they faded out of sight. He turned to Clara and Dimitri. "I'll come back. I promise," he spoke.

"You better come back. You're pretty much the sanest person here," Dimitri joked.

Ratchet couldn't help but chuckle. He took a deep breath, and leapt out. Harsh wind assaulted his face as he plummeted toward the loading platform. Ratchet aimed his swingshot at the railing, the grappling hook halting his descent easily. He couldn't help but gulp at the sheer sight of the drop below. A misfire of the swingshot could've surely resulted in sudden death.

As he pulled himself onto the loading platform, the lombax glanced toward the overlook and smiled. From where he stood, he could just make out the silhouettes of his fellow Rangers as they steered the power plant workers away from the building. _So far, so good._

Turning away from the commotion, Ratchet tightened his grip on his wrench, and began the harrowing journey into the facility.

* * *

Dim lights and blaring alarms greeted Ratchet. The lombax's large ears fell flat against his head, agitated by the constant white noise. There was no way he would be able to find Clank or Nefarious in this chaos. His eyes locked onto the control switch, and he didn't hesitate to deactivate the alarm. The hero's ears relaxed, grateful for the sudden silence that now filled the corridor.

"Clank? Clank?!" Ratchet worriedly called out. The only answer he received was the consistent flickering of the dying lights. Chills crawled down the lombax's spine, as he tiptoed through the hallways. "Clank! Where are you, buddy?!" the hero tried again. Once again, he was met with silence.

A sinister chuckle echoed off the walls, and Ratchet froze, eyes darting back and forth as he searched for his adversary. The lombax's knuckles turned white, partially because of fear, partially because he held his wrench in a death grip. His breath came out in shudders, and his ears perked up as he listened for any signs that Nefarious was watching him.

He saw the glint of metal before he saw anything else.

The lombax gasped, tripping and landing on his backside as a clawed hand swiped at him. He could just make out the familiar shape of the assailing shadow. _That was close._ Ratchet's broken wrist throbbed with pain at the exertion, but he quickly brushed the feeling aside. _I'll patch my wrist up later. Right now, Clank's probably hurt worse than I am._

"Come on out, you coward!" Ratchet hollered hoarsely. Given the circumstances, he was surprised he was able to speak at all. Brushing the dust off his armor, Ratchet shot to his feet, his eyes scanning the shadows in case Nefarious wanted to toy with him further.

Then again, now that he thought about it, Ratchet figured Nefarious had probably been toying with him all along. He'd been playing games with the lombax all the way back to their reunion in that warehouse on Zanathir. Capturing his friends and allies, manipulating Marcus, taunting Ratchet about his mistakes…it was all probably Nefarious' aim from the start. And now that the mad doctor had Clank in his grasp…

 _God knows what Nefarious did to my best friend._

He had no idea how long he'd been walking before he reached a glass door. One glance at the door was all that was needed for the lombax to feel sick to his stomach. The bloody handprint on the door, combined with the presence of the plant worker's corpse, only served to make the scene much more terrifying. _It's like something out of a horror movie…who am I kidding? No horror movie could mimic this!_

Ratchet stared at the door, brows furrowed as he concentrated. He noticed a keypad to the right of the door. Given the scarlet stains on the keycard slot, Ratchet guessed the worker had tried to make a break for it before Nefarious had caught him. _That's another person dead now…and here I was, thinking Marcus had a killing spree going on._ _Now how do I get through this door?_

A light bulb went off in his brain, and he knelt down next to the corpse. A foul smell invaded the lombax's nostrils as he flipped the worker onto his back. _Ugh. I don't want to know._ Ratchet pinched his nostrils shut, but that didn't stop him from groaning in disgust as he pulled a crimson stained key card out of the worker's pocket. The lombax closed the worker's lifeless eyes, before facing the door. "This had better work," he muttered, swiping the card through the slot on the keypad.

"Engineer Miles Stanton: access granted," the computer droned.

 _Bingo!_ Ratchet smiled to himself. _If I survive this, I'm going to make sure this guy gets a proper burial._ Focusing on the task ahead, Ratchet stepped through the doorway and caught his first glimpse of the vast space below. Judging from the sheer amount of machines, Ratchet had to guess he was in some sort of generator room. The generators churned along at a steady pace, and Ratchet felt relief wash over him, grateful that the haunting silence he had trekked through moments earlier had faded away.

"Nefarious! Where are you?" Ratchet shouted, eyes darting around the room. Another mad cackle resounded in the chamber, and Ratchet couldn't help but flinch at the harrowing noise.

The high-pitched whine—the sound of a charging weapon—was Ratchet's only warning to the energy blast thrown his way. The lombax could feel the searing heat brush past his fur as he dived out of the way.

"Looking for me?"

Ratchet swiveled around, his hands reaching for his wrench as he glared at his enemy.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Dr. Nefarious warned, the blood red eyes only making the room's haunting atmosphere even creepier. Ratchet's eyes shone with a mix of anger and curiosity as Nefarious whipped out a remote. "Interesting fact about electricity: there _is_ such a thing as using too much power. You turn one light on, and that's that. But if you turn too many lights on at once, if you overload the system, then the entire circuit blows up." The cyborg threateningly held up the remote. "One wrong move, squishy, and I demonstrate this remarkable fact to the entire city firsthand!"

Ratchet gripped his wrench tightly in his hands, his eyes seeing red. He could do it. He could end Nefarious' life here and now, while he had the chance. But like a fading ghost, the moment came and went all too quickly. _No…as long as Nefarious has that remote, he can control everything. No power means no resources, no communications, nothing! He'll plunge the entire city into chaos!_ Reluctantly, the lombax lowered his wrench in submission. He wasn't going to give up that easily, but right now, he had no choice.

"That's better," Nefarious purred, satisfied. "Isn't it so much easier when everyone just plays nicely? Just think, if you'd done that from the beginning, that girl you killed might still be breathing."

"What do you want?" Ratchet seethed, blood boiling at the sight of the demented grin on the mad scientist's metallic face.

"Simple," Nefarious casually answered, his feet clanking against the floor as he paced. "I want to kill you…"

 _I knew it._

"…yet I can't."

 _Wait, what?_  
"I can't kill you until I've claimed what I've desired for almost a year," Nefarious grinned evilly.

"So, that's your plan? You kidnapped my best friend, turned Marcus against the only family he had left, placed all of these innocent lives in danger, just so you can have a shot at hurting me?" Ratchet questioned, bewildered.

Nefarious' chuckle echoed through the generator room and sent chills crawling down Ratchet's spine. "You still don't get it, do you? I gave that chance to Marcus because I don't exactly need it yet. All my life, I've been ridiculed, laughed at, betrayed, but no longer. The Galactic Rangers, the people of the Solana Galaxy, they've torn me down, piece by piece. But now it's my turn to do the same to them. What better way to break the Rangers than to paint the room with your blood!"

Ratchet stared at the mad scientist, a growl of anger threatening to escape his muzzle. _Nefarious, you bastard! You're lucky that remote's the only thing keeping me from ripping you to pieces_. "If you think hurting me will do anything, then you really don't know me. We're all stronger than you realize!" the lombax shouted back, the fury he'd been containing struggling to make itself fully known.

"Believe me, I know. I know you and the Rangers don't care about your own demise…but everyone else will." His clawed hands gestured to the corners of the room. One look at the hidden cameras was all that was needed for the lombax to understand.

 _He doesn't want to break me. He wants to break everyone else!_

"I'm going to make you scream, squishy," Nefarious purred eagerly. He stepped forward, his talons itching to tear into lombax flesh. "And you're going to stay right where you are, and take it. After all, you know what happens if you don't…"

Ratchet stood his ground, hands curled into fists, as he nervously tried to rid himself of the sudden lump in his throat. _You can do this. For Clank. You can do this._ The lombax reluctantly closed his eyes, and he silently prayed that whatever Nefarious was going to do, it would at least be swift…

* * *

She was lucky her footsteps didn't echo throughout the plant.

Clara ducked behind another portion of the wall, her eyes staring inquisitively at the exchange between the lombax and the cyborg. For Ratchet's sake as well as her own, she hoped the lombax was good at keeping the attention on himself. The human gripped the straps of her backpack. She couldn't help but take comfort in the reminder that her gear was still with her.

An alarming amount of blood and oil stained the floor, telling the woman and the detective that they were in the right place. Dimitri swiftly slapped his hand over the lock, his rifle aimed at the doorway in case any warbots tried to get the drop on them.

A horrid smell invaded Clara's nostrils as she entered the makeshift cell, nearly causing her to gag. She looked around, but darkness was the only thing that filled her vision. The woman couldn't help but wonder how Nefarious was capable of whatever cruelty had occurred in here.

"Miss…W-Westbrook?"

Clara's eyes widened at the familiar voice. She spun around, her hands shaking in terror at the cursed sight.

Had the warbot been damaged further, she probably would've mistaken it for a stray wrecked Zurkon. But it was still him, nonetheless. Clanks' metallic body was littered with scorch marks and cuts. Oil leaked out of the deepest lacerations, and sparks flew from the busted shard of glass that was Clank's left eye. As for the defect's left arm, Clara found herself staring at it far longer than she wanted to, eyes glazed with horror at the mangled stump where the arm used to be.

"Oh my God," Clara croaked. Questions raced through the young woman's mind, but the shock of the whole situation prevented her from asking any of them.

"What in the hell?" Dimitri cried out, recoiling in fear at the warbot's brutalized state. "Christ, Clank, what happened to you?"

Clank struggled to speak, but the only noise that came out was a distorted groan of misery. The haunting sound quickly spurred Clara to action. She glanced around the room, and her breath hitched in her throat.

At least Clara knew what that smell was now. It was the smell of death and decomposition.

The headless corpse of a Fongoid lay in the cell corner, flies eagerly swarming around the body. Clara turned her eyes toward the living civilians. The mother's tear-stained eyes were locked onto the corpse, almost as if she was expecting the Fongoid to come back to life. The two children were similarly chained up, quietly whispering with each other in a futile attempt to keep their minds off of the horrid sight in the corner.

 _I need to free them, but how? I don't have—wait! Why didn't I think of it sooner?_ Dropping to her knees, Clara reached into her backpack, easily grabbing what she needed.

Marcus' machete.

With a flick of the switch, the blade spurred to life, vibrant energy dancing around the weapon's edges. She swung the blade, and gravity harshly pulled Clank to the floor, the chains that held him practically shattered by the blade's heat. The warbot struggled to keep his good eye open.

Dimitri knelt down, carefully taking Clank's battered body and lifting it up. "I've got him," he told Clara. "Take care of the civvies."

Clara nodded her head in agreement, and approached the short line of terrified civilians, their eyes shining with hope strong enough to overwhelm the woman then and there. She freed the children first. The Corethran almost fell over as the two Markazian kids embraced her in a grateful hug. She could feel their trembling. _They're scared. They're scared of Nefarious and his minions._

"Shh. It's okay," Clara whispered, holding the two close as they wept. "You're gonna be okay." It was ironic, in a way. Mark had used that same, soothing voice to calm Clara whenever she had a nightmare.

Marcus. The younger sibling hadn't even thought about what happened to her brother. A horrid thought occurred to her. Was Marcus in on this? Did he even know that innocent people would be taken and tortured? Even if he did know, would he have done anything to stop it?

The woman had just finished cutting the Markazian mother's chains when her ears picked it up. A scream.

 _Why does that voice sound familiar…No!_

"Ratchet…" Clara realized.

Dimitri's eyes widened in realization, and his hand lashed out, catching Clara's shoulder in a strong grip. "These people need us. Ratchet's doing his job. We need to do ours. C'mon."

The human said nothing in reply, hopeful eyes locked onto the barren hallway in front of them.

"Clara, please," the detective insisted, tugging Clara's arm forward.

"Miss Westbrook…" Clank's distorted voice stuttered. The warbot reached forward with the only arm he had left, weakly grabbing Clara's hand. She turned to look him in his good eye as he struggled to speak up, "W-we cannot…s-stay here…much…l-longer…"

Clara wanted so badly to help, but she knew helping Ratchet would be futile. Nefarious would catch on to their plan, and the civilians would die. Ratchet and Clank would die. _I guess you were right, Ratchet. This is the only way._ "You're right," she spoke, turning back to the group. "Let's move. The nearest exit is this way."

Reluctantly, the younger Westbrook led the group out of the makeshift cell, their combined footfalls echoing through the corridor.

No matter how much she wished otherwise, Clara couldn't block out those familiar screams.

* * *

 **Whew! Another chapter done!**

 **I can't help but feel bad for what I'm putting Ratchet through.**

 **Anyways, thanks for your patience, and I will have the next chapter posted soon. Have a great day! :)**


	22. Chapter 22

The harsh, metallic fist collided with Ratchet's jaw, sending him flying halfway across the room for the umpteenth time. He skidded across the floor, finally landing on his back.

 _C'mon, guys. I can't keep this up forever…_

The lombax could hear the stomps of his enemy's feet before the monster yanked him off the floor once again. Ratchet couldn't stop the pained cry that escaped his lips as Nefarious' sharp claws dug into his ears, making the vice-like grip even more excruciating.

"Weakling! To think that moron Qwark had the audacity to put you in charge," Nefarious taunted, reeling his arm back and hurling the Ranger across the generator room. The lombax felt glass pierce the skin beneath his fur as he soared through the window. He barely had time to shield his face as his body painfully collided with the concrete.

Ratchet carefully rolled onto his back, trying his best to swallow down his fear along with the coppery taste of blood. _Where are they?_ If his allies didn't make it out with the hostages soon, he knew he'd have to fight back. His wrench lay untouched from where he dropped it. He glanced over to his helmet, abandoned since Nefarious had violently torn it off. _Maybe I could get to that helmet, equip a blaster of some sort, and…and…oh, who the hell am I kidding?_

Judging from the weakness in his limbs, and the sharp jabs of agony in his side—he had to guess at least two ribs were broken—Ratchet felt in no condition to stand without toppling over, let alone fight. He could feel swelling in his ankle, a clear giveaway that the impact from that last fall had twisted the limb. And even if he did manage to overcome all of that, Nefarious still had that remote. _If I want to keep Clank and Aleero City safe, I've got to do this the hard way._ He had to play by Nefarious' rules. But for how long, and at what cost? Even now, the lombax could feel his eyes slipping shut of their own accord, no matter how hard he struggled to keep them open. He knew he had a job to do, but he couldn't do it.

 _I can't go on, guys. I'm sorry._

Reluctantly, Ratchet reached for his wrench.

A metallic foot slammed down on his arm—his broken arm—before he had time to react, and Ratchet couldn't hold back the scream that escaped his throat.

"Seriously?!" Nefarious growled. "Tsk, tsk. You Rangers never learn, do you? I gave you a choice, squishy: surrender or die." The mad doctor reached down and grasped the wrench, staring thoughtfully at the weapon. His cold, mechanical optics revealed sinister intentions as they turned back to Ratchet. "Even after all of this, after I've brought this city to its knees, you still think you can shoot all of your problems away. You still fight back! Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, squishy, but the universe just doesn't work like that."

Ratchet glared at the mad doctor, and defiantly shot a glob of bloody spit directly into Nefarious' face. He inwardly smirked as Nefarious growled in disgust and wiped the fluid away. In his fuzzy vision, he could just make out the cyborg's menacing stare.

The first strike bashed against the side of the hero's head. Another strike to his midsection followed, and Ratchet gasped as he felt yet another rib succumb to the force. The blows came and went, and Ratchet couldn't decide which was worse: the brutal agony overwhelming his body, or the fact that Nefarious was using the lombax's own wrench to inflict said agony.

Ratchet felt the weapon collide with his head one last time, and he doubled over in pain. His throat burned as he coughed up blood and possibly a tooth onto the metal floor. _Well, so much for fighting back._ His ears perked up as an object clattered against the floor. Ratchet's jaw dropped in horror. Right in front of the lombax lay the twisted remains of his wrench, just as broken and torn apart as its owner.

Ratchet felt his heartbeat quicken as Nefarious approached his opponent. The cold, crushing grip returned and lifted him into the air again, the hand having wrapped around Ratchet's throat this time. Ratchet weakly lifted his hand in an attempt to pry off the claws digging into his windpipe, but such efforts only encouraged Nefarious to squeeze even harder.

"Any last words, squishy?!" Nefarious seethed, his cybernetic jaw tilted in what could be the closest thing to a grin.

Black spots began to form in the lombax's vision. Would this be how it ended, with him getting the life squeezed out of him? Ratchet certainly didn't want to give up, but his battered body was deciding otherwise. Every breath came out as a pained wheeze, and he could feel his struggles growing weaker by the second.

Clank, Clara, the Rangers….what would happen to them? Maybe Nefarious would show them Ratchet's corpse, allow them to drown in the absence of hope, before the mad doctor decided to strike them down himself. Maybe it would be quick for them, but given Nefarious' sadistic nature, Ratchet doubted that would be the case.

 _At least I tried…_

* * *

They all ran, the shadows of the corridor granting them the slightest solace from any warbots skulking about. It was only when she saw the light of the ajar entrance door that Clara stopped, raising her hand up to halt the rest of the group.

"Anything?" she heard Dimitri whisper.

"I'm not sure," she replied back as silently as possible. She looked around, waiting for a warbot to cross her line of sight. Yet after several seconds of staring through the open doorway, Clara could find nothing. "It's all clear. Come on," she beckoned, sprinting through the doorway. "We have to get out of here before—"

Clara's voice died as she gazed at the sudden sight, at the obstacle between the group and freedom. Standing between Clara and her duty was her own brother.

"Stay behind me," she warned. The two children clung to the young woman desperately, shaking with fear as they peeked out from behind her. For what seemed like an eternity, the two siblings simply stood there, glaring as they each waited for the other to make the first move.

Clara couldn't help but flinch as the older Westbrook finally broke the silence. "Well, this is…unexpected," Marcus spoke, his voice overflowing with a mix of frustration and confusion.

"Glad I was able to surprise you," Clara shot back, instinctively tightening her grip on her brother's blade. _Chances are he's here for the weapon. I can't let him have it._

To her own surprise, however, Marcus scoffed. "I was talking about the children. When that cyborg said he wanted to pay a visit to the Hall of Heroes, I didn't think he'd do…this." He gestured to the children.

"Then why did you make a deal with him?" Clara asked, shock forming on her face. "He tried to kill me, for Christ's sake! Don't you see the choices you're making?"

"I like to think we all make the wrong choices at one point or another," the murderer mused, staring at the combat knife concealed in his jacket. Clara winced at the sight of the knife. _No soldier should go marching onto the battlefield without a weapon, son._ That was what their father had told Mark on the boy's eighteenth birthday, back when Mark had received the knife as a gift. Marcus glanced back at Clara. "And that brings us to you."

Clara could only stare at the young man in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about. Where were you when I lost my girlfriend? Where were you when I needed someone to talk to? Oh, wait, that's right. You were too busy helping the bastard who killed her."

"Because you tried to slaughter him! You tried to kill Ratchet. I won't stop fighting for those who need help," Clara snapped back. "You know that."

The stranger that she had once called her brother let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Fighting for those who need help? You?" he mocked, never taking his eyes off of her. "If you truly believed that, you wouldn't have left me alone when I needed help. But you did."

The woman dared to take a step toward Marcus, held back only by the frightened whimper that the young children gave off. "You're not alone, Mark," she whispered, tears filling her eyes at the mention of the name she called him when they both were still young and innocent. She blinked them away. "You can still walk away from this. You can leave behind this crusade of yours, we can rebuild our lives. Marcus, you can be free."

Marcus let out a disheveled sigh. "It wouldn't work, Clara…" he lamented. "I can't be free from _this_. You'll still hunt me down. You'll still see me as a threat."

"If you are still my brother, Marcus Westbrook, then you know that's not true!" Clara scolded, eyes shining with the hope she knew she should've given Mark long ago. "Please stop this. Stop it now! I love you!"

He turned toward her. The heartache in his eyes was gone, replaced by that haunting, determined look he gave her, back on Corethra V. He turned his cold gaze to the machete in Clara's shaking hands. "I love you too," he spoke softly, "but that blade is mine."

Clara readied herself, as her brother pulled out the knife he had stained with so much innocent blood. Her eyes shone with betrayal as Marcus' final words, like daggers, pierced the very nature of her soul.

"And I am a Westbrook no longer."

 _BANG!_

Immediately a blood-curdling scream pierced the formerly silent air, and Marcus staggered, red staining his hand as he clutched his stomach. His sister whipped around just in time to catch a glimpse of Dimitri, the Markazian's Plasma Striker drawn.

"Clara, I—"

 _BANG!_

The second shot cut off the murderer's statement. Clara ducked down immediately, and she couldn't help but sigh in relief as the bolt missed her brother as well. Marcus gave his sister one last, heartbroken look, before scrambling away from the scene. "Marcus! Wait!" Clara called out, but her warning was in vain. The killer was already long gone.

"Clara! Clara, are you all right?" she heard Dimitri call out.

The woman remained silent, eyes staring hopefully in the direction her brother had fled.

"Clara?"

"I'm fine," she answered, turning to face the Markazian. "Are the hostages safe?"

"They are s-safe, Miss Westbrook," Clank stuttered. "W-where is Ratchet?"

"He's keeping that monster Nefarious occupied," Clara confidently replied, kneeling down to face the warbot. "I'm more worried about you right now. You look like you got your ass handed to you by a Blargian Snagglebeast."

"I am f-fine. Thank you."

"Stay on guard in case Marcus comes back," Dimitri ordered, maintaining a vigilant grip on his Plasma Striker. "I'm going to call in a gunship to get us out of here."

Clara glanced around, looking for any sign that her brother was still hiding. She found nothing, and was just about to give up when she spotted something on the adjacent platform. She couldn't stop that gasp that escaped her lips.

From where she stood, she could just make out Ratchet's shape as he flew onto the platform across from her own. She could merely catch a glimpse of Nefarious as he strolled over to the lombax. Even from here, Clara could tell Ratchet was losing the fight. She longed to march over to the second platform and give the mad doctor the what for. But, as much as it pained her to admit it, she knew Ratchet would have to hold on a little longer. Right now, the mission came first.

Clara's hands reached down to grip the blade for comfort, only to snatch thin air. The machete was gone. "Wait. Where's the blade?" She glanced around, her eyes searching for her brother's weapon. Each glance around the platform yielded the same result: no blade.

She froze suddenly, holding her breath as her ears caught the sound. _It sound like…is that…dragging? I wonder what could be making that sort of—wait. The dragging, the missing blade…oh no._

Spinning around, Clara's eyes widened in shock at the sight before him. Clank struggled toward the duel below, struggling to drag the machete with his remaining arm.

 _What is he thinking? He'll get himself killed!_ "Clank! What are you doing? Give me that!" Clara shouted, reaching to snatch the blade back.

To the Corethran's surprise, the warbot kept his distance. His head squeaked with the extent of his injuries as he turned toward the woman. "Improvising…"

With that, Clank continued disappeared back into the power plant.

* * *

The lombax's vision was about to go dark entirely when he felt the grip suddenly loosen. Gravity harshly pulled him to the floor. As Ratchet keeled over, coughing and gasping for air, he could just barely catch a glimpse of what had caused Nefarious to break his concentration.

It was Marcus' blade, Ratchet knew that much. _But what's it doing here?_

"AARRGHH! Get off of me, you lousy freak!"

Ratchet glanced up in time to see Dr. Nefarious, the cyborg struggling. The lombax could barely make out the outline of something on Nefarious' back. The mad doctor reached up. Through his dimming eyesight, Ratchet stared at the struggling form of the attacker, and a gasp of pain and fear escaped his mouth.

It was Clank.

 _No…_

The pint-sized warbot struggled feebly in the taller cyborg's grip, and Nefarious raised his free hand.

 _Please no…_

The razor-sharp claws pierced through Clank's body.

 _No, no, no, no, no, no, no!_

Nefarious reeled his arm back. The warbot flew across the room. The injured lombax hobbled over to his best friend, gritting his teeth at the spikes of discomfort in his ankle.

"Ratchet?" his best friend croaked. The warbot's remaining eye gazed into Ratchet's own…

 _No!_

…before the light flickered and burnt out.

 _NO!_

"Clank! C'mon, buddy, wake up!" Ratchet stammered out, grasping the warbot in his arms. Oil dripped from the gushing wound, staining Ratchet's fur even more. "Please don't do this. Don't do this to me, pal. Wake up!" The lombax shook his best friend's lifeless form, hoping Clank would come back to life. _No. He has to wake up! He has to!_ "Clank!"

Silence.

Ratchet's mind raced, struggling to comprehend what was right in front of him. He couldn't fool himself into thinking it was just a dream, like he had with Grim. The jabs of pain from his injuries proved that much. All Ratchet could do was stare as tears trickled onto his friend's body. This was it. His worst fear had finally come to life.

Clank was gone.

And then, as if to shatter the silence that had bound Ratchet for so long, Nefarious started to laugh. The silence had been bad enough, but Nefarious' demented laughter sounded much worse. Each cackle felt like a knife being driven into Ratchet's soul, and he reached up to cover his ears in a vain attempt to block out the laughter.

"Look at you!" Nefarious cackled gleefully from afar. "Just as weak and worthless as the rest of the Rangers. Your entire city in the palm of my hand, and yet you're more concerned about a defective waste of scrap! Pathetic!"

Though Ratchet's hands muffled out the majority of the cruel statement, his ears still tensed at the vile words. His grip tightened on Clank's body, and the anger he had suppressed earlier swelled inside of him, making his blood boil. His thoughts, once scrambling every which way, now jabbed at him, one by one.

 _That animal!_

 _Clank didn't deserve this!_

 _All Nefarious does is kill and kill and kill…_

 _Even Marcus cared more than that cyborg!_

 _You have to stop him!_

 _This is what Clank would want!_

 _Pick up the blade! Pick it up!_

 _Fight back! Fight Nefarious! Kill him!_

 _Kill! Kill! Kill!_

The voices collectively whispered to Ratchet, though he could still make out one voice, one distinct thought that drove him to reach for the abandoned machete lying next to him:

 _Clank wasn't a waste of scrap. Clank was my best friend…_

A growl forming in his strained throat, Ratchet took Marcus' blade and activated it. He could feel the pain in his swollen ankle, but he shoved it aside as he stood and turned to glare at Nefarious.

 _…and no one hurts my best friend!_

* * *

 **It was at this moment that Nefarious knew...he screwed up.**

 **Thanks for your patience, guys. I'll have the next chapter posted soon. Have a great day! :)**


	23. Chapter 23

The assassin had just about escaped from the chaos altogether when he heard it.

The feral howl caused Marcus to turn back toward the fight. He could just make out Nefarious' normally confident eyes as they widened in shock. The mad doctor turned, raising his arm just in time to block.

It wasn't the sheer power of the blade itself that caused Marcus to gasp. It wasn't the fact that Ratchet was using the human's machete to begin with. It wasn't even the fact that the blade had practically split the cyborg's arm down the middle.

It was the lombax's eyes. Those eyes weren't Ratchet's eyes. Ratchet's eyes always showed the heroism he had for the Rangers, and the love he held for his friends. Now, those same green eyes shone only with fire. Those weren't Ratchet's eyes.

They were the eyes of a monster.

The young man's hand reached for his combat knife, almost out of habit. _I could do it. I could avenge Lily here and now._ It would be all too easy. Marcus could imagine himself doing it. The Corethran could gut Ratchet, twist the knife, and laugh at the traumatized look on the lombax's face as he struggled to keep his intestines from spilling out.

And yet, Marcus could only stand there and watch.

For one, he'd just managed to hide from that traitor he was forced to call a sister. It was no easy task running from her and the detective. Even now, the young man could still feel the sting of the wound in his stomach, the unfortunate result of Carlisle's surprise attack. _That Markazian tried to kill me. He could've succeeded. I can't let that happen again._ The assassin would need to focus on healing his wounds first.

For another, Ratchet had been pulling punches back at that mall. He certainly didn't look like he was holding back now. If Marcus intervened, chances were the lombax would do more than just give the human's privates a good kick.

And then there was the guilt. There was always the goddamned guilt. Even now, Marcus could feel it worming its way through him, gnawing at his insides. From the moment he took that innocent life back on Veldin, he found the guilt constantly creeping its way through his soul. He'd just never known how powerful it was…until now. _Maybe…maybe I've had enough fighting for one night._

So Marcus did nothing, only finding the strength to lean back against the wall and smirk as the fight progressed. After all, he'd been looking forward to this moment since Nefarious dared to lay his fingers on Clara.

 _Better say your prayers, Nefarious. I think you broke the lombax a little too much._

* * *

Ratchet swung wildly with the blade, barring his teeth as his swings missed. _You freaking bastard! You killed Clank! Why?!_ Even with the newfound energy coursing through his veins, he found it difficult to land a hit on Nefarious. Another strong swing missed as Nefarious' rockets propelled him into the air. Thinking fast, Ratchet fired his swingshot, inwardly grinning when the grappling hook latched onto Nefarious' neck. The lombax pulled with all his might. The surprise registered instantly on Nefarious' face as the swingshot dragged him down to the ground, none too gently. Ratchet gripped Marcus' blade tightly in his good hand, his eyes catching the split second of opportunity.

In a matter of moments, Ratchet brought the blade down on Nefarious once more, the cyborg's damaged arms acting as the only protection. "I'll kill you, you psycho!" the lombax screamed, allowing his desire to avenge Clank to come full circle.

"Why do you obsess over him?" Nefarious countered. "He was a defect, a glitch in the system."

"No! He! Was! My! Friend!"

A blast to his stomach forced the lombax away from his nemesis. Distantly, the hero felt grateful that his armor had absorbed the majority of the impact. He could feel the sting of pain from the wounds he'd received earlier, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. All that mattered was putting Nefarious in the ground. _You shouldn't have hurt Clank, Nefarious! What did he even do to you?!_

Ratchet's thoughts cut out just in time for him to dodge another charged blast from his enemy. Eyes narrowing in focus, he rushed forward again, only pausing to avoid the occasional energy blast thrown his way. The lombax gritted his teeth in anger as he swung the machete. The mad doctor nearly tripped as the blade slashed across his unprotected leg.

"Stings, doesn't it?!" Ratchet mocked, smirking as Nefarious groaned in annoyance.

"You think you can still save this damned city?" the cyborg roared. "You couldn't even save your little backpack friend!"

The hero doubled his attack in response, lashing out with the blade in the hopes of merely striking his foe. "You will die just as painfully as he did!" Ratchet growled threateningly. _You won't kill anyone else, and you won't break me!_ The lombax was so focused in his emotions that he couldn't register Nefarious' claw wrap around his throat again until it was too late.

Unlike the last time, however, the mad scientist simply hurled him across the platform, the unforgiving impact causing Ratchet to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. _I can't show that I'm weak. I'm not_ _weak!_ The lombax shot to his feet, pausing to catch his breath, when he noticed it.

His helmet. The one thing separating him from the rest of his arsenal.

 _Wait. That gives me an idea._

The plan formulating in his brain, the lombax moved forward, aiming to get back inside the generator room. The maniacal cry from his enemy held Ratchet back, as he barely avoided another swipe from Nefarious' claws. Ratchet ignored the pain in his leg, and fumbled through the large window. It only took a moment to find the helmet, and even less time to put it on. Ratchet glared at Nefarious through the cracked visor. The dark thought brought the desired weapon to his fingertips, and the lombax smirked.

The prototype RYNO.

He smirked as his fingers gripped the handles of the volatile gun. _Nefarious isn't the only one who knows how to fight dirty._ Truth be told, Ratchet didn't have any idea what would happen to him if he used the RYNO. That mysterious vendor back on Rilgar had told Ratchet to keep the RYNO's existence a secret. So he did. He'd stashed the weapon in a private case on his weapons locker, back at the Hall of Heroes. _Never thought I'd see the day where I actually use this thing. But there's a first time for everything._ He had no other options if he wanted to save Clara, the hostages, and the rest of the team.

 _This is for you, Clank._

Taking aim at Nefarious, Ratchet didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

The room exploded with light and heat as energy bolts and missiles assaulted Nefarious' form. The cyborg recoiled in horror as the projectiles connected with their target. "DIE!" the lombax roared, keeping the trigger pulled down. Even with his finger kept on the trigger, Ratchet distantly knew the RYNO could only keep firing for so long. _No! This has to work. He has to die!_ By now, the mad doctor had fallen to his knees, clearly unable to withstand the barrage of Ratchet's illegal weapon. The missiles and bolts continued to pellet the machine, smoke billowing from the mad scientist's charred body.

The barrage abruptly came to a halt. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Ratchet squeezed the trigger again. Nothing. He was out of ammo.

Just as suddenly as the fight began, it ended. It was over.

The lombax roughly threw the RYNO to the floor, clutching Marcus' machete and pointing the energized sword at Nefarious' neck. Smoke poured from the holes in the cyborg's body. A web of cracks had formed on the glass dome that served as the monster's head. "I told you I was stronger than you think!" Ratchet snapped. Part of him wished looks could kill, that way his eyes would burn holes straight through Nefarious' head. The lombax raised the blade, certain that his fallen friend would sleep soundly tonight.

"Ratchet, stop!"

The lombax whipped his head to face the newcomer. Dimitri came forward, flanked by Clara. The look in the Markazian's eyes told Ratchet enough. "Ratchet, please. Put the weapon down," Dimitri commanded, his normally stern eyes now shining with concern.

"No…"

"Ratchet, that's an order!"

"I said no!" Ratchet shouted back. "He broke out once already, and he's cheated death twice! I'd be doing the galaxy a favor by ridding it of him!"

"Look, I get it," the detective calmly stated. "Truth be told, I'd love to finish the son of a bitch off myself, but not like this! Just put the weapon down. We'll arrest Nefarious, put him on trial, and if he's found guilty, we'll execute him then!"

"You can lock him up and throw away the goddamn key, but he'll just break out and start killing again! You don't understand. If I spare this monster, Dimitri…he'll terrorize everyone I love. Just like he did with Clank. I can't allow that!"

"I hate to break it to you, but Clank wouldn't want this," Dimitri insisted, placing his hand on the lombax's shoulder. Ratchet flinched in response, wincing in pain as the injury from his earlier fight with Marcus came back to haunt him. "Not only that, but Nefarious is the only one who knows Marcus Westbrook's whereabouts. We can't track down that criminal if the one in front of us is dead!"

Ratchet glanced back toward the psychopath at his mercy. He gripped the blade so tightly that he could feel his knuckles turn pale. Nefarious had ruined everything. He'd tricked Marcus, he'd kidnapped innocent civilians, and he'd just about killed Clara. Now Clank was lying several feet away with stab wounds in his chest. Nefarious deserved death and damnation for what he did.

Yet, a small part of him, a part he'd buried ever since Nefarious had called Clank a waste of scrap, held the lombax back. Deep down, though Ratchet didn't want to admit it, he knew Dimitri was right. Clank wouldn't want his best friend to drown in grief and hatred. Neither would Clara, Qwark, or even Grim.

 _To be a hero, you don't have to do big things; just the right ones_. And Ratchet distantly knew that what he was planning to do—striking down Nefarious in anger—it certainly wasn't right at all.

After a moment's hesitation, Ratchet finally deactivated the blade. "Call the others over here," Ratchet ordered Dimitri. "We're done."

"Will do," the detective replied, pulling out his communicator. "All units, this is Carlisle. The hostages are safe, and we have the suspect in custody. Waiting for extraction…"

The rest of the conversation gradually tuned out, as Ratchet rushed back over to his friend's side, the blade still in his good hand. _Okay. Stay calm. It's just a bunch of stab wounds…and a missing eye…and a missing arm. Dear God, Clank, what did you get yourself into?_ Ripping open the panel covering Clank's chest compartment revealed nothing more than a dead battery. Ratchet couldn't help but sigh in relief. _Not much internal damage, thank goodness._ First things first, he would need a way to get Clank's battery back online…if that was even possible. He glanced around the generator room. _Wait. The blade. The blade's energized._ Though Ratchet felt his heart swell with hope, he knew hope could only lift his spirit so much. Jump-starting a battery required both a positive and negative circuit. He had a positive circuit—Marcus' machete—but he still needed a negative circuit, something metallic.

A light bulb lit up in Ratchet's brain. He left the machete by Clank's corpse, and limped over to where his broken wrench lay. His good hand grasped ahold of the wrecked weapon. _I'm gonna have to find a way to fix this too._ The lombax hurried back over to Clank's body, taking the machete and flipping the switch. Sparks clashed as the two weapons connected with Clank's battery. Ratchet paused, eyes eagerly waiting for the expected result. But all that his eyes saw was the still form of his best friend.

After a few seconds, Ratchet tried again, turning his head away as more sparks flew. The last thing he wanted was a spark landing in his unprotected eyes. Again, nothing happened. _No. No, no, no. This has to work! It has to!_ Ratchet connected the weapons to Clank's battery again. _C'mon, Clank. Don't give up yet!_ The lombax tried again and again, each time discouraging him further as he witnessed the same result.

There was no denying it at this point. Clank wasn't coming back.

Ratchet's heart sank. He continued to hold onto Clank's body like a lifeline, finally allowing his tears to fall freely. "I should've been there to protect him," Ratchet mumbled. None of this would've happened if the lombax had simply accepted Clank's offer for help, back when Ratchet had left to rescue Clara on Corethra V. Now Clank was gone, and it was all Ratchet's fault.

"Rat-chet?"

 _Oh, great. Am I hearing his voice in my head now?_

"I-is that you, Ratchet?"

 _Wait a minute. I'm definitely hearing his voice._ He glanced back at the warbot's body. _What…it can't be!_ The shimmering green optical lens stared right back at Ratchet.

It felt too good to be true, yet it turned out to be true indeed.

"Clank!" Ratchet joyfully cried out. It didn't take long for the lombax to nearly crush his friend in a grateful hug. For what felt like an eternity, he let the world fade away, focusing only on the fact that Clank was here, in his arms. It didn't matter that Nefarious still needed to be locked up. It didn't matter that his wrench was in desperate need of fixing. It didn't even matter that Ratchet's friends had to nudge his shoulder to guide the lombax back to reality.

All that mattered was that it felt good to have his best friend by his side again.

* * *

Ratchet forced himself to swallow down his remaining anger as he witnessed the Kerwan police move Dr. Nefarious onto the transport. From what he had heard, the Rangers had already arranged a cell for the mad doctor at Aleero City Penitentiary, one which would hopefully keep Nefarious locked up for good. The metal exam table and the durable restraints proved that the Rangers had done an excellent job in securing the evil scientist. Ratchet, however, remained unconvinced, shielding Clank with his broken arm while keeping his other hand in reach of the combustor Carlisle had provided to him minutes ago.

"I've gotta say, scrapheap," Dimitri growled, daring to look Nefarious in the eye. "I appreciate the irony. In the past few days, you've somehow managed to not only wreak havoc, but to majorly piss us all off while doing it. Seven counts of kidnapping, two counts of vandalism on public property, two counts of murder in the first degree, and God-knows-how-many counts of torture. And that doesn't even include all the chaos you caused with the Deplanetizer incident." The Markazian turned to Ratchet, a sly smile shown on the detective's lips. "Does that sound about right, Ratchet?"

"You might want to add Clank's attempted murder to those charges, but yeah, I'd say I agree with you," the lombax pointed out, slumping down next to a second police gunship. He couldn't help but groan, from both the pain and the boredom. Apparently, unlike the first gunship, this one was set to take Ratchet straight back to the hospital, as per Elaris and Clank's orders. The lombax didn't even bother trying to argue; it was two against one. Ratchet could beg to help the Rangers seal away Nefarious, but the waves of pain from his injuries ultimately sealed the deal.

"Fair enough," Dimitri pointed out, turning back to Nefarious. "Take him away!" he ordered the guards.

The mad doctor struggled as the officers roughly grabbed the metal table he was strapped to, and moved it onto the first gunship. "No! I can't lose, not to you! Are you listening to me, you lombax dog?! I'll rip your squishy head off and mount it on my wall, do you hear me?! RATCHET!—" The cyborg's tirade was abruptly cut off as he suddenly froze.

 _"Oh Janice, I can't. I've no desire for love since that world-dominating order turned me into a vampire!"_

 _"That's not true, Lance. I know it isn't true."_

 _"How do you know?"_

 _"Because I was in that world-dominating order that turned you into a vampire!"_

All Ratchet could do was sit there and gawk in confusion. _What the hell? Did I break Nefarious or something?_ The whole situation just felt so awkward and amusing that the lombax burst out laughing. He laughed and laughed until he could barely breathe, and even then, he continued to laugh some more, only stopping when the gnawing ache in his broken ribs swiftly returned.

The all-too-familiar clanking of his friend's feet caused Ratchet's ears to perk up with interest. The warbot sat down next to the lombax. The two sat there, watching with interest as the rocket boosters on the first gunship activated. The transport rose higher and higher before leveling out and zooming off into the night sky. It was at that moment that the lombax decided to shatter the silence.

"You were right," Ratchet started. "I couldn't handle Nefarious or Marcus on my own. I know you were only trying to help, but I thought I was keeping you safe by leaving you behind. Now look where that got you…I'm sorry, Clank."

Clank stared back at the lombax. The warbot's remaining eye blinked, the only sign Ratchet saw that told him Clank understood. "Do you remember what I told you back on Veldin, after Novalis was destroyed?"

 _Blaming yourself and taking responsibility are two very different things._ "Yes…" Ratchet wearily admitted. "And I think it's about time I take responsibility…for everything that happened to you, Clara, Grim…all of them."

"And how do you make things right the next time?" Clank inquired.

"Well for starters…I know for a fact that I'm not the only one in need of forgiveness."

"You are going to go after Mister Westbrook, are you?"

"Once all of this heals up…" Ratchet piped up, gesturing to his ribs and ankle, "…eventually. I told Clara I'd try to track down Marcus, and I'm not breaking that promise anytime soon. In the meantime…" Ratchet scooped Clank up in his arms, and carefully stood up, wincing as his ankle ached from the effort. He took a deep breath, and stepped onto the gunship. "I don't know about you, pal, but I'm ready to go back home."

* * *

He didn't bother moving after the gunship carrying the lombax had taken off. He didn't try to run after the Rangers had moved out. It was only when Marcus had made certain that he was alone that he did what he should've done long ago.

He ran and never looked back.


	24. Chapter 24

_One month later…_

* * *

The marker was nothing more than a rotting plank of wood from the garage. Ratchet had been busy saving up enough bolts to buy a proper headstone, but for now, the plank would have to do. Between the pile-up of ships he had to help Clank fix, and Veldin's blistering summer heat, it was no wonder Ratchet continued to sweat like a dog. As the lombax stared at what now housed the body of his fallen mentor, however, he couldn't help but smile sadly. _Yep. Worth every second of effort._ He felt a small sense of pride rise up in him, but he suppressed it just as quickly as it appeared.

The lombax swallowed the lump in his throat as he glanced at the inscription on the makeshift grave marker: _Grimroth Razz; a man who lived and died doing the right thing._ _Rest in peace._

"Ratchet?"

The hero's ears straightened at the sound of Clank's call. _I suppose it's time to head back._ He let out a sigh, stood up, and reluctantly began the short walk back to the garage. _Just because my mentor's gone doesn't mean there isn't still work to do._ If he was being honest with himself, Ratchet still had trouble accepting the fact that Grim wouldn't be there now to hound him into doing proton scrubs.

The lombax trotted through the garage and made his way up the stairs, leaning on the railing for support. He had a long ways to go until he fully recovered, but he was working on it. He glanced around his familiar bedroom, eyes glancing over the Galactic Ranger collectables before finally settling on Clank. The warbot lay on Ratchet's bed, flipping through one of his science magazines. Ratchet couldn't help but smile. A thought occurred to prank the warbot while he was immersed in his reading, but Ratchet shook the temptation away. "Hey pal. Did you need me?"

The warbot flinched slightly, too focused on his magazine to realize that Ratchet was standing right next to him. "I was simply wondering if you were all right. I have not heard from you in a while."

"Oh! Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just a little hot is all." Ratchet rubbed the back of his neck nervously, inwardly hoping Clank would drop the issue. Ratchet had never been more grateful when his wrist had finally been relieved of its cast a few days ago. After the battle had ended, and after a week-long recovery spent enduring tetanus shots, nightmares, and everything in between, the lombax had never wanted to see the inside of a hospital ever again. The past month had been a tough one for all of the Rangers, Ratchet especially. Now, though, Ratchet felt he was finally settling back into his everyday routine, with only a brace on his ankle to prove that he'd even been injured in the first place. "Long day, huh, pal?" Ratchet spoke, sitting down on the bed with the warbot.

"I agree. I understand now why Mr. Grimroth was in need of help for so long." The warbot glanced up at Ratchet, his optics narrowing with what his best friend could only describe as worry. "I trust you have already contacted his brother?"

"I broke the news to Felton already. I'm gonna head out to Pokitaru tomorrow to see how he's doing. I can't imagine how he's handling it."

"And what will happen to this place?"

Ratchet glanced around the place he had called home for most of his life. As for the garage, he didn't know what to do with it now that his mentor was gone. As much as he wanted to keep the business open, Ratchet somehow couldn't see himself as the ordinary mechanic he once was. _It's just not the same without Grim by my side._ "I'm not sure, Clank. That's another reason why I'm going to talk to Felton. I mean, he's Grim's brother. I don't think I should make a decision without consulting him first."

Ratchet flopped onto the mattress, ears drooping and eyes heavy with exhaustion. In his peripheral vision, the lombax could make out Clank's relaxed form lying next to him. Ratchet's hands reached out and latched onto his best friend, pulling the warbot into his arms and hugging him close. Even though he was teetering on the edge of wakefulness and sleep, Ratchet could still feel Clank's metallic limbs as they half-heartedly struggled to escape the lombax's tight grip. "Um, you can let me go now, Ratchet," Clank suggested, continuing his escape attempt.

"Nope," his best friend sleepily mumbled. "Not taking any chances." As if to cement his decision, Ratchet hugged Clank's feeble body tighter. For a while, the two friends simply lay in Ratchet's bed, oblivious to the world around them. Clank wanted to try to break free of the hero's grip again, but he didn't. The warbot didn't need the constant nights where Ratchet woke up screaming in terror to remind him of what they had both gone through. Though Ratchet had managed to repair Clank's injuries with Clara's help, the mental damage done to the duo still persisted, and they both knew it. Thankfully, the lombax's nightmares finally seemed to be dying down.

The alerting tone of Ratchet's communicator interrupted his catnap. The lombax couldn't help but groan as he finally let go of Clank and sat up, his exhausted brain believing the person contacting him was doing so just to annoy him. "This is Ratchet," he answered, stifling a yawn.

"Ratchet, it's Detective Carlisle," the gruff voice replied, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. "Where you at, rookie?"

"Why do you ask?" Ratchet questioned, worry creeping into his tone. "Is something wrong? Did Dr. Nefarious break out?"

"No, no one broke out," the detective calmly reassured. "Everything's fine. The Rangers are just holding a party at the Hall of Heroes, you know, a celebration for defeating Nefarious. Everyone's wondering where you're at."

The moment he heard the word, "party," Ratchet's eyes nearly popped out of his head. The lombax wasted no time in snatching the key to his Star Jumper. "Give me at least an hour to get ready. I'll be there!" With that, he rummaged through his dresser drawers, pulled out his best outfit, and headed toward the bathroom to get ready.

 _Hall of Heroes, here I come…_

* * *

No matter how hard he tried to hold them back, Ratchet couldn't keep the painful memories from resurfacing.

The sights and sounds nearly overwhelmed him as he strolled toward the Hall of Heroes entrance. Yellow police tape wrapped around the areas still needing repairs. Power tools and the barked orders of construction workers provided a crude background noise that competed with the muffled music from the ongoing celebration. Kerwan Police units stood guard outside the front doors, their gaze vigilantly passing over every citizen that walked by. To Ratchet, the display in front of him was just another sign of how much more time the Rangers needed to get back on their feet. He gently pulled on the collar of his polo shirt, and took a deep breath.

"Do not let it all get to your head, Ratchet," his best friend reassured him, having noticed his friend's anxiety. "You can handle this."

After a few more deep breaths. Ratchet began to feel more at ease. "You're right. Thanks, pal."

The blaring music greeted the lombax and warbot as they stepped into the lobby. Lights flashed every which way around the lobby, courtesy of a Groovitron hovering on the receptionist's desk. Ratchet glanced around, smiling as he eyed his friends. Qwark was busy filling his stomach with the food that the Rangers had brought with them. Dimitri and Elaris sat at the reception desk, keeping the Groovitron running and nodding their heads to the beat. Even Clara sat at a nearby table, with only a glass of punch to keep her company.

Ratchet barely took a few steps toward the punch bowl before Qwark stopped him. "Hey, Ratchet! What'cha been up to?"

"Oh, not much. Fixing ships, helping Clank and all that. How you been?"

"Much better. Didn't you hear? They finally got the gift shop opened up again!"

"Glad to see you haven't changed a bit," Ratchet spoke, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the captain.

"As am I," Clank agreed, hopping down from Ratchet's back.

"I'm glad to see I haven't changed too!" Qwark excitedly responded. "Just you wait, Ratchet. Before you know it, I'll be back out there saving lives just like the good old days!"

Ratchet couldn't help but snicker in response. He wasn't normally one for hearing Qwark's rambling about the gift shop for the umpteenth time, but the sight of his captain's blabbering about nonsense somehow gave Ratchet a reason to smile. If anything, Qwark's eager mood was only another sign that the Rangers were finally pushing forward.

"Ratchet!"

The lombax was just able to catch sight of Dimitri strolling toward the conversing Rangers. "There you are. I was wondering if Captain Qwark and I could have a word with you?" the detective asked.

"Alone?" the hero asked, eyes shifting to where Clank sat. During the first few days after Nefarious' failed scheme, Clank had made it explicitly clear that he wished to remain close to Ratchet whenever and wherever possible. The warbot had proved his point well enough during Ratchet's stay in the hospital. The lombax could remember Elaris and Clara's constant requests for Clank to head home and let Ratchet rest. Clank refused to leave Ratchet's bedside each time.

"No, you can bring your friend, too," the Markazian reassured, allowing Ratchet to breathe a sigh of relief. "Believe me, this is something we need the both of you in on."

"Let me find Clank. I'll meet you in Qwark's office," Ratchet responded.

It didn't take long for Ratchet to locate Clank, who was currently engaged in a conversation with Elaris. The tactician was busy laughing at some clever quip Clank had come up with seconds ago. The lombax gently nudged the warbot with his foot. "Hey, pal. Carlisle wanted to chat with us. You got a second?"

The warbot nodded before turning back to Elaris. "I am afraid you will have to excuse me for a moment."

"Sure. No problem," Elaris replied, returning to her task of running the Groovitron.

Ratchet and Clank strolled down the hallway, the sounds of the music gradually dying down behind them. All the while, Ratchet's mind formed question after question as to why Dimitri wanted to talk to him. He cast a glance toward his friend, hoping the warbot was coming up with an explanation. Ratchet's worries only increased, however, when he saw the same confusion etched in Clank's optics.

The two Rangers stepped into Qwark's office, where they found Qwark and Dimitri waiting patiently. Qwark had barely closed the door before Ratchet made his thoughts known. "So…what's this about?" he asked, taking a seat in front of Qwark's desk.

"Well…" Dimitri started, taking out a thick, wooden box and placing it in front of the Rangers. "I get that we're all still recovering from a crisis, and I also know you guys are dying to get out onto the dance floor again. But I'm afraid there's not much rest for the weary. We have a new assignment on our hands, and we're gonna need some more strength to accomplish it." The detective opened the box. Ratchet stared in awe and confusion at the brass-plated badges inside. There had to be at least five new badges in the box, six if the engraved badge at the end of the row was anything to go by.

"Earlier this week, I got a call from a man by the name of Quinton Roderigo," Dimitri continued, sitting down in a spare chair. "He told me about this gang of pirates and mercenaries going around the Solana and Polaris Galaxies, terrorizing citizens. They're organized, but under what circumstances, we're not certain. We've got no identification on their leader, and there's certainly no way we can just go in guns blazing without starting a full-scale war."

"So you want us to investigate this group and help the citizens?" Clank suggested.

"Well, yes, but it's not that simple. It's just…we could really use some more leadership on this one," Dimitri opened up, finally looking Ratchet in the eye. "I mean, this is a pretty big investigation we're handling this time. From what Roderigo told me, it's bad enough that some friend of his is apparently going around attacking these pirates alone, and that's only going to put more lives at risk. We need more Galactic Rangers out there to assess the threat. We also need more leaders to show them the ropes, and, well…I'd like to give that responsibility to someone I trust."

 _Wait, what?_ "So…what's the bottom line of all this?" Ratchet inquired, narrowing his eyebrows.

"He means we all get to train the newbies!" Qwark excitedly revealed, his tone sounding as if Dimitri's suggestion was the best piece of news in existence. "Don't you worry, Ratchet! With my guidance, these new recruits will be ready in no time! Plus, they get to watch a real hero in action!"

"Qwark," Dimitri sighed, fingers lacing his eyebrows in agitation. "You _do_ realize we're mainly giving this opportunity to Ratchet and Clank, right? You're pretty much there to guide _them._ "

Ratchet could barely believe his ears. _They're actually letting us train new Rangers?_ "Wow," the lombax responded, unable to say much else. He glanced down at the badges on the table, his eyes narrowing at the one which was already engraved. He winced as he read the inscription. Clank had already told the lombax what had happened to the Ranger who had once worn that badge, and with each word, Ratchet had felt his heart drop deeper into the pit of his stomach.

Thankfully, Clank decided to continue speaking for his stunned friend. "How exactly are we going to recruit more Rangers?"

"Leave that bit to me and Elaris," Dimitri reassured the warbot. "I've already talked to my allies in the police force about this. We're already working with local governments in both galaxies to find potential recruits. We can help you find the allies. You two just give them the badge and make sure they don't blow anything up that they're not supposed to. What do you think, guys? You up to the challenge?"

Ratchet took a deep breath and opened his mouth to reply, but hesitated at the last second. _Dimitri's leaving this to us? Who knows what those pirates are capable of? The Polaris Galaxy is a big place. What if we get lost? What if something goes wrong on the mission? What if Clank or anyone else gets hurt again? What if…_

A metallic hand on his wrist snapped Ratchet out of his moment of panic. He turned his head toward his friend, the warbot's face resembling the closest thing to reassurance. He closed his eyes as his mind flashed back to that moment when Clara and the Rangers stood with him, right before they had gone to rescue Clank from Nefarious. Ratchet knew exactly what Clank was telling him. For the first time in months, Ratchet felt his confidence break through the fear.

The lombax turned back toward Dimitri, the fire in his eyes foreshadowing his answer. "You can count on us, Dimitri."

The detective's lip bent into a reassuring smile. "Okay. I'll talk to Elaris and get something worked out. In the meantime," he spoke, rising from his chair and strolling toward the door, "You guys enjoy the party out there. And Ratchet…"

The lombax craned his neck to Dimitri, catching a glance of the detective as he looked over his shoulder.

"Keep up the good work out there," the Markazian spoke, his words overflowing with sincerity and pride. "You're not a rookie to me anymore. I'm proud of you."

With that, Dimitri walked out of the office, leaving the awestruck heroes behind. For a while, the lombax stood frozen, partially because of Dimitri's encouraging words, partially because of the burden that had been placed upon the two friends' shoulders. _If what Dimitri's telling us is true, if this Quinton Roderigo guy needs our help, then we really are gonna need all the allies we can get. And I think I already have one Ranger cadet in mind._ "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, pal?" Ratchet whispered softly enough to keep out of earshot of Qwark.

"Indeed, I am, partner."

Satisfied with Clank's confident answer, Ratchet slowly turned back around to face the captain. "Um…Qwark?" Ratchet started, eyes cast on the ground.

"Yes?" the captain confidently acknowledged. "What do you need?"

Ratchet pointed toward the engraved badge. "I was wondering if I could borrow that."

* * *

Clara sat idly, eyes cast on the Rangers' forms as they danced under the Groovitron's bright lights. Truth be told, part of her even wondered why she was here. The party was mainly for the Galactic Rangers, and she had a hunch she was only here because her father had once served with them. _Sure, it's nice that they invited me, but…I'm no Ranger._ She didn't feel much like dancing, especially since she never was good at it. She couldn't hold back a chuckle as she recalled what had happened the last time she tried dancing. It was at a family gathering back on Pokitaru. Her father had tried to teach her how to dance back then, in preparation for a date she had planned for the following night. The dance lesson went as badly as Clara expected, given that Clara had tripped over her own feet half the time. Mom and Dad were both a bit shocked. Mark couldn't stop laughing.

"Clara!"

The woman turned her head toward the sound of the voice, lips curling into a smile as she noticed Ratchet and Clank jog up to her table. "Hey. What's up?"

"You mind if we talk to you in private?"

Clara nodded her head. _Not sure where he's going with this, but I'll play along._ The woman got up and followed him into the hallway. The two barely even made it out of the lobby before Clara began speaking. "So, what'd you want to talk about?" she inquired.

"Um, Clank and I talked, and we thought you should have something." The lombax nodded at his warbot friend, and Clank opened up his chest compartment.

"What is it?"

"See for yourself," Ratchet quirkily replied.

After a moment's hesitation, Clara cautiously reached into Clank's chest compartment, her hands grasping something metallic and pulling it out. Her eyes shined with awe and realization. _What—but that's impossible. It can't be…_ A million emotions spun around in Clara's mind as she stared at the brass-plated badge, and the name inscribed on it: _Thomas W._ The woman glanced up at Ratchet, her eyes asking the question that her lips couldn't form: _Is this real?_

"He would want you to have it," the lombax sincerely replied, taking the badge out her hand. "An old mentor of mine told me long ago that heroes fight for what's right. I don't know about you, Clara, but someone who risks their own life to save mine, and stands up to those they love just as much as those they don't, definitely fits the definition of a hero." With that, Ratchet pinned the badge into place on Clara's jacket.

"I-I don't know what to say," Clara stammered, her lips curling into a solemn smile.

"Welcome to the Galactic Rangers, Clara." Ratchet wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. "Your father would be proud of you."

"I'm certain yours would be proud of you, too," she whispered, hugging him back. "Thank you. Thank you so much." Clara gently broke free of the hug. She craned her neck back toward the lobby, a sign that she was just as eager as anyone else to rejoin the party. "I'm gonna head back out there."

"Sounds good," Ratchet responded. "I'm gonna grab something to eat. Be right back."

Clara looked Ratchet back in the eye one more time before he and Clank disappeared around the corner. She quickly turned and walked out into the main lobby to rejoin the party. The sight of the table and the glass of punch sitting on its surface enticed Clara, but she instead found her gaze wandering to the Rangers.

 _Ratchet's right about one thing: Dad would be proud._ When she had first heard about her parents' passing, Clara's first instinct had been to call her older brother for support. But after Mark had disappeared—after he had started his crusade—Clara had been left with no one. Clara had considered herself alone until she met Ratchet and the Rangers. Clara took a deep breath. She didn't know what the future held, for her, for Marcus, or even for the Rangers. All she knew was that she wouldn't find out if she didn't move forward.

She reluctantly left it all behind her—the thoughts of her parents, of Marcus, of her past—and walked toward the Rangers, her confidence giving her a sudden eagerness to join them on the dance floor.

 _Maybe I feel a little bit like dancing after all._

* * *

"I will be out in the hall if you need me," Clank assured his friend, as the two neared the sleeping quarters. "Do try not to be too long."

"Don't worry. I won't," Ratchet promised, trudging into his private quarters and flicking on the light switch. The moment the door slid shut, the lombax practically collapsed on the firm mattress. He had a tough day ahead of him tomorrow, so he would have to get some sleep sooner or later. There was the trip to Pokitaru, for one. For another, Ratchet had a feeling Qwark and Dimitri would be sending him and Clank to track down recruits for the Rangers. But for now, Ratchet was certain his friends were waiting for him out in the lobby.

The lombax sat up and reached into his dresser drawer, eager to get his hands on the few granola bars he'd stashed in the top drawer, in case Qwark or Brax got greedy with the goodies in the cafeteria. The only other person who knew about this stash was Clank, and Ratchet had made the warbot swear to keep the snacks a secret.

That was when he noticed the envelope.

Granted, it was common to have mail from family and friends placed in a Ranger's sleeping quarters, but the sight of the envelope still gave Ratchet enough cause for suspicion. No address, no indication where it came from, not even a stamp. Just a single word written in all caps on the envelope: _LOMBAX._ Curiosity gradually overcame Ratchet, and he found himself tearing open the envelope without a second thought.

Ratchet's curiosity only increased as he stared at the lone item the envelope contained. It was a photograph. It only took a second for Ratchet to recognize the two people sitting side by side in the photo. Marcus sat beside the girl—Lily—on a set of stairs, one arm wrapped around her shoulder, the other holding what looked to Ratchet like an electric guitar. The smiles on their faces appeared genuine, a prime example of the life that was stolen from them. For a while, the lombax simply stared and held the photo as if it were an ancient artifact. _Something tells me Marcus sent this, but if that's the case, then why? Maybe I should show this to Clara tomorrow, see what she thinks of it. But first things first…_

The lombax grabbed a few granola bars, and was just about to set the photo down when he noticed something. Simply from holding the photo, the tips of his fingers had picked up a blue streak of ink. Turning the photo over confirmed Ratchet's suspicions: the ink streak was just a result of poor penmanship.

Ratchet couldn't stop himself from reading the hastily-written message.

 _I forgive you, but I won't forget you._

Eight words. Eight words was all it took for the lombax's heart to skip a beat. He didn't need Clara's help now to prove the photo was Marcus' doing, since the evidence was right in front of his eyes. He read and reread the message, each time feeling less and less certain that the message was some cruel joke. _Why?_ The question dominated over every other thought in Ratchet's brain. _Why would he do something like this? Why now?_

Maybe the message was a warning from Marcus. It was obvious from his word choice that the Corethran had done this rather reluctantly. Maybe Marcus was warning Ratchet and the Rangers to leave him be. _Fair enough. I, for one, don't plan on going near him for a long time._

Maybe Marcus had found out the Rangers were onto him. After Nefarious was locked away, it didn't take long for the Kerwan Police Force and the Rangers to send out warrants for the killer's arrest. Perhaps, Ratchet thought, Marcus had done this out of fear.

Or maybe, just maybe, Marcus had meant what he said in the message. Maybe Ratchet had gotten through to the human during their showdown at the Old Kerwan Mall. Maybe Marcus had actually decided to move on.

 _So many motives…I guess time will tell which one convinced him to send this._

The lombax hopped off the mattress and strolled over to the door. His hand hovered over the light switch as he gazed at the starry night. Ratchet didn't have a clue whether or not Grim was watching from wherever he was now. But nonetheless, Ratchet couldn't help but think that Grim would be proud of him. And, despite how much he didn't want to admit it, Ratchet figured Grim and Lily would both be proud of Marcus' act of forgiveness as well.

"Ratchet?" Clank's voice perked up from the hallway, causing the lombax to jump with fright. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," Ratchet called back, more confident than the last time Clank had asked him that same question. "I'm fine, Clank," he continued, keeping his voice out of earshot of his friend. "I'm going to be fine."

The lombax pocketed the photo, switched off the light, and followed Clank back out to the lobby.

 _I love you, Grim, and I'm proud of you, too._

* * *

The human turned away from the window the moment he saw the lights go out, pulling his hood down further over his face. Distantly, Marcus knew he only had a few minutes at best before the Rangers caught onto his breaking and entering, and he didn't feel like rotting alongside Nefarious in a prison cell any time soon. He had a long ways to go, but for now, he could feel the crushing weight of the guilt lifting from his shoulders. The human figured the lombax would probably forgive him eventually. He didn't know, however, if he could forgive himself.

 _I'll never stop fighting, Clara._ The thought clung to Marcus as much as his late girlfriend's memory, as he started in the direction of his starfighter, his solemn mission completed.

 _I swear to you, I'll never stop fighting…_

* * *

 **That's all, folks!** _ **Lasting Scars**_ **is finally finished.**

 **So, I've got a favor to ask of you guys. I'm always looking for ways to improve my writing, and with that in mind, I put together a short list of questions for readers to answer.**

 **Which parts of the story did you enjoy?**

 **Regarding the original characters, which ones were well developed? Which ones needed improvement?**

 **What was the most suspenseful/epic moment in the story?**

 **How were the franchise's characters handled?**

 **Overall, which areas of the story are well developed? Which areas need improvement?**

 **I also would like to thank everyone who favorited/followed/reviewed this story. Truth be told, I didn't think this many people would be invested in the story, so I greatly appreciate your support. And to those who left a review (or several): words cannot express how grateful I am. Thank you.**

 **Anyways, that's it for this story. Still can't believe I'm done with it. I may make some one-shots based off this, or maybe even a sequel, depending on the amount of time on my hands. But that's a topic for another day. Thanks for all the tremendous support, and have a great day! :)**


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